


Ride

by xaidyl



Category: The Yogscast
Genre: Car Accidents, Descriptions of Injury, Hospitals, If you get me?, Purely a work of fiction, Set in an alternate universe or something, Where things are pretty much the same, but a little bit different, death mentions
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-03-27
Updated: 2018-04-25
Packaged: 2018-05-29 11:44:50
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 22
Words: 43,787
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6373441
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/xaidyl/pseuds/xaidyl
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>I've been thinking too much- Help me.</p><p> </p><p>Things were wrong. Things had been going so well, but things were wrong. One bet, one argument, one wrong turn, one crash, destroyed their whole order. But would it ruin their lives?</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Taking my time on the ride

Taking my time on the ride (1)

 

"They're going to catch up with us! Trott drive faster! Go!" Shouted the dark haired man in the back seat, sat straining his neck round, looking out the back window of the car. "I'm not joking, they are right behind us."

"We're not racing them. It doesn't matter whether they're ahead or not." Trott, in the front spoke, casually, with one hand on the steering wheel and the other fiddling with the stereo.

"But-" spoke they man in the back again, but he stopped halfway through the sentence, not wanting to reveal more information.

The driver raised his eyebrows. "What is it, Ross?"

"Nothin'" he sighed turning around again.

"He made a bet with Sips." Spoke the third man in the car, proud that he knew this information. "That we would get to the studio before the others."

The others consisted of Duncan, Sips (who was visiting) Lewis, Simon and Tom. All of them, as well as a camera crew were headed out to do a film, another 'block and load type challenge', along with some camera crew and other production assistants. Hatfilms weren't going to be in it initially, but the sponsor had insisted, so they went along with it. They got their own car, just using Ross' BMW to get them there and back to the warehouse, as there was no chance that everyone who needed to go could fit into one vehicle.

Ross had been talking to Sips just before they left. It was a fair drive to their destination, so they both agreed something to make the time pass quicker. The competitive nature may have cone from the gaming, but the childishness nobody knew. Ross had assumed that nobody knew about the bet either, until Smith has mentioned it.

 

 

"What?" He asked. "How do you know about that?"

"You weren't exactly being secretive about it. And I can overhear conversations." Smith smirked a little, as he started playing with the stereo, and changed Trott's music to something he preferred.

"What was the bet for?" Asked Trott, now intrigued.

"A freddo." Ross whispered.

"A freddo? Really?" Trott laughed. "I'm not risking our lives so you can get a freddo."

"But freddo prices are inflating so greatly these days." Joked Smith from the passenger seat, elongating certain words as he spoke.

"Not helping, Smith." Trott shut everybody up, then concentrated on the road again, stopping steadily at the red lights. He was a careful driver, believe it or not. Ross was extremely weary, but got horrendous road rage, and Smith was just reckless. So although he was not the best driver in the world, Trott was probably the best of the three, unless it involved speeding, and hitting pedestrians wasn't illegal (because then it would be Smith)

Ross sighed as he saw the other car overtake them, Sips' smug face, as he held out an 'L' shape with his hand and stuck his tongue out, jeering at Ross.

 

  
"Fuck this Trott. Can't you just speed up? A little?" He groaned, undoing his seatbelt so he could stand up and see the other car slowly pulling away from them.

"No. Do your seatbelt up." Trott sighed, turning around. "If you wanted fast driving, you should have asked Smith. Not me, because I don't want to crash. I don't know why your not driving anyway, it's your car."

  
Ross thought for a second. It was his car and all, and if he or Smith were to drive quickly it could get scratched, and Trott was a better driver. But then again, it wasn't just a freddo. If Sips won he would be at it to weeks, not to mention the fact that he would put something on Twitter and the whole fandom would be at it. A few scratches on his car would be nothing compared to the embarrassment he would get if he lost.

 

"Can't Smith drive?" Ross asked, sitting down again and strapping himself in.

"Yeah, I'll drive." Smith smiled, standing up in his seat.

"No. Why? Why not you?" Argued Trott, turning a corner whilst indicating correctly, taking it slow.

"But Smith's faster. And we'd waste too much time with me climbing over to the driver seat." Ross stuck out his bottom lip and looked at Trott.

"Fine, next traffic light. And I want half of that bloody freddo." The smaller man grumbled under his breath, unfastening his seatbelt, but remaining seated at he carried on driving.

Smith did not remain seated, instead stood up in the low roofed car.

The red light came up a lot quicker than Trott had hoped it was. He was practically picked up by Smith and placed in the passenger seat, Ross screaming for them to hurry up.

The small brunette leaned back in the passenger seat, not bothering to strap himself in as he knew that it wasn't too far till they would end up swapping again, when Smith got too bored, or it got so dangerous that Trott couldn't allow it any longer.

That wouldn't be long it seemed, as the smallest, and seemingly at that point the most mature, felt the car speed forward

"Smith this is ridiculous," Groaned the smallest man, "just slow down a bit, at least... Please."

Smith gritted his teeth. "Fuck off, Trott. Why are you such a kill joy?" He growled. And accelerated even more, turning off the route that Trott had so carefully planned.

"Yeah Trott! Why are you such a Twat!" Screamed the youngest man, joining in with the insults that were so often given. "We'll show Sips! Look how far ahead we are now! Fuckers!"

 

Trott groaned again, but didn't comment, sending a text to Lewis in the other car.

'Just a warning, Sips and Ross have made a bet to see who will get to location first. Thought I'd let you know'

Lewis' reply was swift, and it was obvious he also had concerns.

'I thought it was odd that Sips kept telling Tom to go faster. Thanks for letting me know.'

Another text came through seconds after.

'Drive carefully too. Don't damage the car.'

Trott smiled, and typed back a reply, swaying from side to side as Smith took sharp corners.

'Would like to be but Smiths driving now. Think I'll take over in a bit, make me it a bit safer.'

 

  
Trott put his phone in his pocket, then turned round to Ross again.

"You happy now?" He groaned.

Ross smiled.

"I still don't think this is safe..." Trott frowned back at him, until the car made another turn, and Trott's small form was pushed against the window. He composed his self, shifted his fringe form his face, then moved to look at Ross. "If Smith breaks your car I'm not paying. And you can talk to the police too."

"Calm down Trotty. Don't get your flippers in a twist, we'll be fine."

"Yeah, he's right Trout. We're nearly there anyway. It will only take us like five minutes to get there." Ross added.

"I just think that this isn't the best idea, couldn't you slow down a bit. We must be way ahead of them now."

"Can't take that risk Trott." Smith smiled, slamming his foot on the brakes as a light flashed red.

"Look you've stopped now, I'm really not sure we should be doing this. Anyway, Ross, what about speeding fines." The brunette chewed on his lip.

"We can deal with speeding fines. There's no cameras round here anyway."

"Smith!" Trott almost screamed as the tall man accelerated once again. "Just slow down, please."

"Trott you're just making it more dangerous by talking to him!" Ross explained.

"No I'm not, Ross, you're making it more dangerous with this stupid bet and you're driving too fast!" Trott argued standing up a little in his seat, despite the shaking of the BMW.

"Trott, stop spoiling the fun." Ross groaned.

"It's not fun, it's dangerous. This is so stupid. You're being fucking stupid again! And I'm fucking fed up with it."

"Well maybe we're fed up with you being such a mum all the time!"

"Whose going to mum you if I don't, then. I let you tease me and insult me all the time, then I edit the videos and I stay up sorting things out. And I do all this for you two, sort out dates. I set up our fucking channel. I was the one that talked to Lewis, got this partnership. I did all that. And you complain that I'm killing your fun, because I don't want you speeding round Bristol before we have a day of filming!" Trott was practically shouting back at Ross, who sat in silence, surprised at this reaction, a point that would only be reached if Trott was really tired, or had been provoked for too long.

This apparently was too long.

 

  
"Look Trott, if you want to drive, you can." Smith slowed the car down a little, realising that they had really upset their friend.

"Yeah. If it's upsetting you that much." Ross agreed, looking sheepishly at his friend.

Trott didn't answer. Just turned around and stared out of the window. "Sorry. I overreacted." He spoke after a few silent seconds.

"Do you want to drive?" Ross offered, "If that makes you feel better. I guess it's safer, no offence Smith-"

"None taken. Traffic lights again?" Asked the tall man. "Trott?"

  
The smallest man looked almost close to tears as he stood up in his seat. "Thanks. I'm so stupid, I just-"

"It's alright. You get agitated. We get it. We were driving too fast anyway."

"Yeah, and we'll have beaten the others too, we are way ahead of them." Ross smiled.

 

Trott got his phone out his pocket again, then went to text Lewis once more.

'We're okay now, we've slowed down and I'm gonna drive again. See you there.'

Smith slowed the car to a halt, and pulled over at the pavement. "Quick them, swap over." He jumped over the seat, in an awkward swap with Trott, who sat down. Neither of the men in the front bucked their seat belts, thinking it inconvenient, as they could only be a minute or so before they got to the warehouse.

"Right, let's go then. We all happy?" Trott smiled from the front.

"Yeah." Smith sat back on his seat, and took a look out of the window.

"Yep." Ross smiled at his friend that was upset. "You know we're going to have to tease you and that when we get there?"

Trott smiled, "I know. I just- I'm sorry. " the brunette signalled, then pulled out onto the road.

 

"It's fine Trott, Shall we just forget this all happened?" Smith advised.

"Yeah, let's. " Trott looked in the back mirror. "But I still want some of that Freddo."

"Fine." Ross groaned, laughing as he did.

"On a serious note, Trott. I don't want to upset you. Everyone appreciates what you do, and you're the glue that holds Hatfilms together."

"Really?" Trott turned his head as they went towards the cross roads. "You think that?"

"If course. I don't know what we'd do without you. " Smith smiled, and the two men in the front smiled at each other. But only for a second.

At 7:43 on that Wednesday morning a black BMW containing three young men crossed through a red light, and was hit on the left side by another car traveling in the opposite direction.


	2. I'm falling

I'm falling (2)

Ross was alive. He was lying on his side, suspended by the seatbelt, but he was alive. It took a few moments to process what had happened. Everything was silent, ringing in his ears.

Smith and Trott. They were in the front.

"Guys? You okay?" Ross choked out, finding it painful to speak, he suspected he had broken a couple of ribs. His arm was also very painful, probably broken also.

There was no answer from the other two men.

The dark haired man reached round, wincing as he did, and fell to the left side of the car, which was now the floor, it seemed.

The car was a mess, completely battered in on the right side. And alarm was going off from somewhere, but Ross couldn't make out where from. The drivers window was smashed in, the little pieces of glass fallen to the left of the car along with everything else.

Along with the other two in the car.

"Shit." Ross whispered in panic. "Shit. Guys."

Still no answer.

They both lay, side by side, pressed against the side of the car. Although side by side, it was not a neat affair, with limbs tangled in angles in ways they shouldn't be. The smallest man seemed to have been thrown a long way, and was closer to the windshield than the other, who was in what seemed closer to a sitting position, but had obviously been thrown from where he was before. Neither looked healthy, they were both pale, with eyes closed. Blood surrounded them, making Ross want to throw up.

"Trott, Smith, please wake up. Please."

They didn't.

"Fuck. Fuck." Ross didn't even bother holding back the tears that ran down his cheeks. He couldn't fit through the gap to the front of the car, he couldn't get through to help them.

"Shit. Help, please, Fuck." He sobbed, as he fell back down and sat with his knees to his chest back on the slightly cracked window. "Please. Fuck."

Ross wasn't sure how long he waited. It wasn't too long though, until the smashed in door that was now above him was prised open. The man didn't recognise who opened it, but they spoke to him anyway.

"Okay mate, stay there will you, we'll get you out."

Ross didn't answer, only sobbed a little more.

The person, who seemed to be a middle aged woman, continued to speak. "I've called an Ambulance, okay, can you tell me your name?"

Again Ross didn't answer the question.

"That's okay. Do you think you could climb out?"

Ross nodded his head, "Yeah." He mumbled, and reached out with his good arm to the hand that pulled him out of the wreck.

He was directed round by the woman that was slightly shorter than him, but taller than Trott, and sat on the floor, a coat wrapped round his shoulders. He noticed the driver of what he presumed was the other car also sat on the floor, looking shaken up, but  
not in a position like Smith or Trott.

"My friends." Ross coughed out to the woman. "They need help."

"Honey," Spoke the woman softly, "we can't get to your friends right now, and we can't move them ourselves anyway. The ambulance will be here very soon, I promise. Now, can you tell me your name?"

"Ross." He leaned back, to find himself against a fence. He must have been at the other side of the road.

"Okay, Ross. You've been in a car accident, can you tell me if anything hurts?"

"Just my arm, and my ribs- my friends, they're much worse, please-"

"I promise we're doing all we can." The woman had a look of sadness and worry in her face. "The ambulance will arrive in seconds. Is there anyone I can call?"

"No, I don't know- I mean- I'm sorry." Ross started crying again.

"It's okay sweetheart, just sit there for a second, I'm just going to check on your friends." The woman walked off towards Ross' wrecked BMW, that was now out of sight for the young man.

Ross, by himself, looked round at the chaos. All the cars had come to a halt, a single red pickup truck was the only other car damaged, with a smashed-in front. There was a line of glass and pieces of metals leading to where the car obstructed from view was. I'm wasn't even eight o'clock yet, so they must have been at a busy cross roads, otherwise they wouldn't have caused such a jam.

The backlog of cars was only broken up by the sound of sirens, and an ambulance responder sped round to the middle of the accident, another woman stepping out. The girl wore a green and yellow uniform, and had long hair tied back in a ponytail. She carried a medical bag over one shoulder, and quickly went over to the woman Ross had previously been speaking to, had a few words with her, then spoke something into her radio.

She looked over at Ross for a second, then concentrated her efforts to the other two men. Ross was glad of it. They needed it more.

The woman who was speaking to the dark haired boy before returned to him. She sat down next to him, and held out a hand. Ross took it.

"Ross, honey, the paramedic is with your friends now, and my husband is with the other driver." She smiled worriedly. "Can you tell me some things about your friends so I can write them down? I need it to help the medic."

Ross nodded his head.

"What are their names?"

"The tall one is Alex Smith, the smaller one is Chris Trott." Ross choked at their names. It was odd that this had all happened so quickly, everything had changed.

"Can you tell me how old they are?"

"27 and 28."

"How old are you, Ross."

"27." Ross looked up at the woman, who was scribbling this down on a pad.

 

"My son is about your age," the woman tried to change the subject. "He's works in London now. Where do you work?"

"I make videos - for- where are Trott and Smith?" Ross answered, trying to look round and see what was going on, and not managing to prevent himself from asking about his friends.

"Can I see your arm, honey?" The woman let go of Ross' good hand, not answering his queery, and reached out for the other, which was hidden under the coat he had been given. The man winced as the woman inspected his broken limb. "You've definitely broken it sweetheart, you poor thing."

Ross smiled at her. "Thank you." He smiled, and found himself crying again. "I'm sorry."

"It's okay, we'll get you to a hospital soon, okay." The woman smiled. "Okay, there's another ambulance." She gestured to it with her head as the sound of sirens blared loud once again.

"They need to help Smith and Trott, and the other driver first." Ross explained, tears running down his face.

"Yes, dear, I'll go speak to them now, see what's going to happen, then I'll come right back, I promise." She smiled, and walked off again.

Ross watched as another two ambulances pulled up, along with a fire engine and a police car. This was obviously a big thing, and he assumed that the appearance of the fire engine meant that Smith and/or Trott was trapped inside of the car. If either of them was still alive, that was.

It was not the woman that walked back to the blue eyed man, but a paramedic, an older gentleman, with a thin layer of curly, greying hair. He spoke softly, and kneeled down in front of Ross.

"Hi mate, I'm Mark. It's Ross, isn't it?" He asked, with a friendly tone to his voice.

Ross nodded his head.

"Can you walk to the ambulance with me, we can get you checked out at a hospital?"

Ross nodded his head again, standing with his arm held to his chest as the man helped him up.

"Can you tell me how my friends are? The two in the BMW?" Asked the younger man, just wanting someone to give him some information at least.

"I can't tell you right now, because I don't know. I'm sure you'll be let know when we get to the hospital. Can you come with me now?" The man asked, not really a question that needed answering, as he was lead to an ambulance, and sat down in one of the chairs.

Ross only caught a glimpse of the others before the man jumped in and the ambulance drove away. Where he was before seemed like bliss compared to it. He couldn't see his friends, they were obstructed by the mass of people there. But it was certainly a place of panic.

The doors slid shut quickly, and the paramedic man took a seat next to him as the ambulance drove away. Not a word was spoken, but the man reached round and hung Ross' broken arm in a temporary sling. The boy used his other hand to reach into his back pocket, to pull out a phone that he was not surprised to find it featuring a new crack straight across the middle. He had one missed call, from Lewis. He turned to the man who had finished hanging up his arm.

 

"Is it okay if I call my friend?" He asked.

"Oh, sure, go ahead." The man had less empathy that the woman he had spoken to before. But that didn't matter. He got the job done.

Ross tapped Lewis' name, and held the smart phone up to his ear.

 

"Ross, hi. " He answered straight away. "Where are you, Trott won't pick up his phone, but he said you were nearly there about a quarter of an hour ago?"

"Um." Ross stalled, not knowing how to explain it.

"It's okay, we're at the warehouse now, how long till you think you'll get here?"

"Lewis." Ross choked, trying to stay strong but finding it difficult. "Lewis, I've fucked up."

"Why, what's happened?" Lewis suddenly seemed to realise something was wrong.

"We crashed the car. And the other two are hurt pretty bad, I think."

"Where are you now?" Asked the man on the other side of the line.

Ross sighed. "On my way to the hospital."

"Okay. Fuck." The man appeared to speak to someone behind him, then talk back to Ross again. "Okay. I'm going to phone some people then I'll meet you at the hospital."

"Thanks mate." Ross whispered.

"Take care, Friend. Call me again if anything happens." Lewis spoke, then ended the call.

There was a small window at the back of the ambulance, and Ross watched as the ambulance he was sat in made its way out of the long line of traffic, and onto roads that were not blocked, and cars moved normally. In a place where the ambulance itself was the only reminder of the accident.

 


	3. All these questions

All these questions (3)

Lewis arrived at the hospital desk quickly. He was by himself, just at that time, but had phoned some people to join him. The rest of the people in his car were still waiting at the warehouse, until their boss got more information.

"Hi." Lewis leaned against the desk.

"Can I help you, sir?" Spoke the man behind the desk.

"My friends were involved in an accident, can you tell me where they are?" The short man tapped nervously on the desk.

"What are their names?" The man looked at his computer.

"Ross Hornby, Alex Smith, Chris Trott."

The man typed their names in, then gave a reassuring smile to Lewis. "Okay. Can you take a seat, then a doctor will come and take you to resus. Do you know if any family members are coming?"

"No, it's just me at the moment."

"Okay, that's fine. Can I take your name?" He smiled.

"Lewis Brindley."

"Okay, thank you."

Lewis turned around and walked to sit down on one of the plastic chairs, next to a girl holding a bandage to her head, and another girl softly comforting her. He watched them carefully for a while, not to be creepy, but just to take his mind off things. The girl with the bandage was crying, and the other girl drew circles on her back with her hands, and pressed small kisses to her cheek. They were probably about the age of Ross, thought Lewis.

His thoughts were broken as he felt a hand tap his back.

"Hello, are you here for the three men in the car accident."

Lewis looked up, his brown eyes twitching a little. "Yeah."

"Okay, can you come with me please."

Lewis stood up and followed the woman for a short while down the white corridor, shoes squeaking on the floor. Other than that, it was silent, the two did not talk. The small man was lead to a room, and sat down next to a doctor.

 

"I understand that you are here for Chris and Alex?" Spoke the doctor, a man wearing a green uniform.

"And Ross, Yes." Lewis smiled worriedly.

"We've looked up their medical records, and they've all put each other as who to contact. Is this true?"

"I would assume so."

"And because we cannot, of course, contact them, you are here as support?"

"Yes." Lewis stroked his thumb slowly. This was obviously more serious than he had first assumed.

"Can you tell me your name?" The doctor had two clipboards, and opened both of them up to the same page. "And also tell me your relation to the two?"

"I'm Lewis Brindley." Smiled the man. "And I'm their boss, but also very good friend."

"Okay then. I'm going to check some stuff with Ross, if he's okay to talk, then I'll head on right back to you, and give you some more info." The doctor closed the papers, stood up, and headed out, the door swinging as Lewis was left by himself.

 

  
The man silently got his phone out his pocket, sat back, and sighed. The hats did get into all sorts of trouble, usually Trott falling, or some video that got a bit out of hand. It had never ended up in hospital, though. Although Lewis didn't know what had happened yet, he was worried. Something bad must have happened, otherwise he wouldn't be in this relative room, and people wouldn't be speaking to him so seriously.

He unlocked his phone, and looked at the amount of messages he had. There was three, one from Hannah, one from Turps, one from Sips. All of them had similar subjects.

'You doing alright? How are they?' Asked Hannah's text, Lewis answered it first.

'Fine, don't know yet.' Lewis had only talked to Turps on the phone, so he must have told Hannah. He wondered who else knew.

The second, from Turps, was a little longer.

'Do you need me to come down to the hospital? I can drive down if you want.'

Lewis typed out an answer quickly. 'No, I'm fine here. Can you pick up Sips, Simon, Dunc and Tom pls, I can't get to them.'

The third text seemed panicky. It was from Sips, who was usually so calm. For some reason this had got to him. He was the one that had made the original bet with Ross, maybe he felt he was to blame.

'R they ok? Can I help in any way? What's happened?'

'They crashed the car, it looks bad but they haven't told me much yet. Turps is going to come and take you back to the office.'

Lewis turned his phone off, and stared up at the blank ceiling. It was a dreary room, completely silent, other than the tick of the clock on the side of the room opposite him. It was ten past eight. Everything had happened so quickly.

It was not long before the doctor came back. He was very calm, which would have given Lewis comfort if he hadn't realised that this man must deal with stuff like this everyday.

"Alright, Lewis, I've spoken to Ross, he said its fine that you know everything, and he'll join you soon, when we can be sure he's completely fine."

"So Ross is okay then?" Lewis smiled, glad about that.

"He's broken his arm, and has a couple of bruises from where the seatbelt was. Other than that, he's okay. A bit shaken up. But he was in the back of the car, and had a seatbelt on, meaning he only sustained minor injuries. The other driver is in a similar position."

"Wait, You mean to say Smith and Trott-Alex and Chris- didn't have any seat belts on?" Lewis stammered.

"Unfortunately not." The doctor sighed. "We're not sure why yet."

 

  
"So- what happened?" Lewis looked worriedly at the doctor.

The doctor looked sincere. "They drove through a red light at a cross roads, and were hit on the drivers side by another car."

"How badly hurt are they?"

"They're alive."

"Good," Lewis whispered, although it wasn't very convincing.

"Both have quite severe injuries, especially to the head. Alex is going to need surgery on his leg, and we have some serious concerns about back injuries on Chris."

"Back injuries?" Questioned the man who was tapping nervously on the chair.

"He was thrown quite a long way. But we don't know yet, we can't give him a full CT scan and X-Ray until he is stable. Same with Alex."

"Are they going to be okay?"

"Honestly, Lewis, we can't be sure. They were involved in quite a serious crash, it could be likely that they don't survive this. Do you understand that?"

Lewis nodded. He didn't speak. It seemed odd that they could die, it didn't seem like something that could happen. Although it could happen to anyone. Simon had been in a similar situation about a year ago, Lewis remembered siting in a hospital, not in a relatives room like this one, but waiting for him to come out of surgery. What happened to Simon was not as bad as this though, surely. And he needed months to recover from that. This seemed worse, and the Hat Films channel was one of the largest in the whole Yogscast, certainly one of the most popular. If it was as bad as the doctor explained, this could have a major effect on everything. The whole point of Hat Films was that they worked best as a trio. Ross couldn't do what he did, have guests and such. Lewis couldn't even think of an event where Ross was in a video without one of his two companions before.

No. This was wrong. He couldn't be thinking about business now. He was their boss, but most of all their friend.

"Can I see them?" He muttered.

"I'll check," spoke the doctor, "probably."

"And Ross?"

"We'll send him down in a few minutes, he's getting his arm bandaged up."

Lewis smiled as the doctor left again, and watched him run down the corridor. "Shit." Whispered the man under his breath, as he leaned back down again. "Fucking shit." He presumed that he should call someone, especially if he was to be dealing with a panicky Ross very soon. Scrolling through his contacts, he struggled with who to call. Somebody that knew all three of the Hats well, but would also stay reasonably calm in the situation.

It took a few seconds for them to pick up the phone.

"Hi!" Came the cheerful voice. "What is it Lewis?"

"Where are you?" Lewis asked.

"I'm just about to head out to work." The voice answered, sounding confused. "Why, do you need me earlier, I thought you were filming a new block and load?"

"Yeah, we were. Can you head down to the hospital please?" Lewis had little change in the tone of his voice as he spoke.

The other end of the line was silent for a moment. "Are you okay?" Asked the voice.

"Yeah, I'm fine. Can you just get down here please?"

"What's happened?"

"There's been a car accident, I need your help." Lewis frowned. There was no response for a bit. "Kim?" He asked. "Are you still there?"

"Yeah," she answered, less cheerful now, "A car accident? Is it bad? Who crashed it?"

"I'll explain more when you get here, basically the three Hats went through a red light, and got hit. It's pretty bad, I think, at least for Smith and Trott. I don't really know much myself yet."

Kim was silent for another couple of seconds before speaking again. "Okay, I'm heading down there now." Lewis heard the door shut and lock behind her, and she continued to speak. "Anything else you can tell me?"

"When you get here, just drive carefully, please." Lewis sighed. He didn't want to have to deal with anything more. Kim ended the call, and Lewis put his phone away just before the door opened. Expecting it to be the same doctor, he put in a confident face, and sat up in his chair. Except it wasn't the doctor.

"Ross?"

 


	4. I know it's hard sometimes

I know it's hard sometimes (4)

Ross walked into the room, happy to see Lewis, a familiar face. His arm had been bandaged up a and put into a temporary cast. It would be sorted out later, after he had seen his friends. He must have bored the doctors to death asking how his friends were, as he was taken from the cubicle he was in, and lead to a room. He walked in to find Lewis, sat up in his chair, and smiling at the boy.

"Ross?" Asked Lewis. "How you doing?"

"Fine." Ross mumbled simply, walking round to take a seat next to the smaller man.

"Does your arm hurt?" Lewis was looking at Ross' bandaged hand.

"A bit, do you know where Smith and Trott are?" This was the only thing that Ross seemed to be able to concentrate on, and Lewis seemed to notice this, and realised that he wasn't going to have a conversation about anything else.

"There's going to be a doctor coming in soon, and he'll probably take us through to see them."

"How badly hurt are they?" The dark haired man asked anxiously.

Lewis sighed. "I don't know much, but it looks pretty bad. I'm sorry Ross."

"It's okay, we can sort this out."

Lewis had never seen Ross like this before, he looked so scared. He wasn't surprised, obviously. The personality of the youngest Hat changed dramatically depending on who he was with, and the situation he was in. Lewis himself wasn't Much good at this whole comforting thing, and wasn't too sure how to sort Ross out. He was fine dealing with a crying Zoey, but that was Zoey, and Zoey was different to Ross. That was one of the reasons he asked Kim to come, as well as the fact she seemed to fit in well with all three Hats, and Lewis hoped that would help.

"Can you tell me what happened. To you." Lewis spoke, looking at his friend.

"We argued in the car, we said some stuff about Trott, he got angry. But we made up, and let him drive again. And then he was looking at Smith and they'd just swapped, so they didn't have seat belts on, and he wasn't looking, and he went through the red light and we got hit. The car went sideways, then they were both lying on the passenger side, and that's all I saw of them really." Ross missed out the gory details, about the blood, and the broken bodies and such. He didn't want to recall it much himself.

"Hey, it's not your fault." Lewis put a hand on Ross' shoulder.

Ross smiled, but both of the men knew it was fake. Lewis noticed that his super dry hoodie was ripped on the sleeve, and had been partially cut off, to get the bandages and sling on. The tall man also had a few visible scratches on his hands and forehead. There was definitely more elsewhere.

 

The door swung open again, Lewis was getting used to the slight squeak the hinge made. A girl in a purple uniform stuck her head round.

"You can come see your friends now, if you want." She gave a sickly sweet smile. "Just follow me." She held the door open, and both Ross and Lewis stood up in silence, and they followed her out. They were lead into a room. It was a sight.

Two beds. Two monitors. Two men. Two bleeps in unison with each heartbeat. Two of Ross' best friends. Lewis could feel the man next to him shaking.

"You don't have to do this, Ross." He comforted but the boy shook his head.

"Yes, I do." Ross frowned, and stepped forward. He stood in the middle of the two beds, as if he couldn't chose which one to go to. Lewis stood up next to him, hand over his mouth.

Ross was chewing his lip so quickly, that nobody would be surprised if it bled. The tall man hands were sweating, he was in a nightmare. This was a scene he never wanted to see, never wanted to be a part of.

"Shit." He whispered. Nobody commented on it.

There was a lot of people, and a lot of machines. Ross couldn't tell if either of them were awake, but he doubted it. He walked over to Smith first, not wanting to deal with Trott. The tall man had his eyes shut and an oxygen mask over his mouth and nose. The back of his head was padded with cotton bandages, stained with red.

Smiths leg was in a bag type thing, with a yellow splint strapping it up. His khaki trousers had been ripped off at the thigh. His arms lay at angles, his left one with an in line going into it.

The dark haired man turned around, only to find himself looking at his other friend. It was like an unescapable house of horror. But it wasn't a house, it was a hospital. And it wasn't like a horror game or anything, it was real life.

The first thing Ross noticed about Trott was how tiny he looked. He was pale even against the white of the bed sheets. His neck was supported by a brace, and a cut ran down the side of his forehead. The equipment around him was similar, minus the leg splint, which he didn't have. The other thing that bothered Ross was his fringe. The smallest of the trio was overly protective of his hair, always combing it back into place with his hands. At this point it had fallen backwards, leaving his forehead open to view. Yet, as the dark haired man moved to fix it, he was stopped.

"Sorry sir, you can't touch him." Came the voice of whoever stopped him. "We suspect he has a serious back injury, sudden movement could be fatal."

Ross took a step back. "Oh, shit sorry." He felt another hand on his shoulder, and a doctor who he didn't recognise turned him around.

"Hi, Ross?"

The boy nodded his head.

"Yeah, can I talk to you about your friends?" The doctor smiled, and lead Ross to a corner. Ross leaned against the wall slightly, and he looked to Lewis, who had stepped back against the other wall and was texting someone on his phone.

"Hi, I'm doctor Tether, I'm Alex's doctor, but I've been told to inform you about Chris too."

Ross nodded his head, feeling his blue eyes well up with tears, but not letting them out. He needed to be strong.

"They both remain on a critical state, I'm afraid. Since neither have regained consciousness yet it leaves us with some worry." The doctors eyes were a dark brown, Ross looked deep into them.

"I don't know what that means." Ross mumbled slightly, he didn't mumble intentionally, it just came out like that.

"Both Alex and Chris have serious head injuries. That seemed like the most important thing at the moment, at least with Alex. Where pretty sure that Chris has broken his spine, too, which could lead to paralysis, if he is to wake up."

This explained more why Ross wasn't allowed to touch his friend. "Are they in pain?"

"We don't know if they are conscious enough to feel pain. We've given both a small amount of painkillers." The doctor looked down at the clipboard he was carrying. "You can try and talk to either of them, they may hear you, and it may help a bit. Just as long as you don't get in the way, and leave if we ask you to."

"Okay." Ross smiled. "What else is going to happen?"

The doctor looked over to the beds, then back at Ross again. Alex will go through to surgery as soon as he is stable enough, for his leg. If we get the bone back in place as soon as possible it will heal quicker, and the operation will be overall more successful. We will take both through for a full head and neck CT scan, and you'll have to speak to Chris' doctor to find out what will happen about his back. It is quite likely that they will be left comatose after this. You were in quite a serious accident."

Ross bit his lip again, chewing so hard that it hurt. "But they will be okay, right? People survive stuff like this all the time."

"They do, but we may have to prepare for the worst. There are serious consequences from an accident like this, and all three of you will be left with scars from it I'm sure, even if those are just mental. You're going to have to adjust to what happens, whether they survive it or not. Do you share a house together?"

"Yeah." They had just all moved back in together, sharing a little detached house, after finding that living alone didn't work. That had only been a couple of months ago, that they were packing all their stuff in boxes, and arguing who got the biggest room.

"Good, I'm sure you'll be a great help then." The doctor smiled. "Please do speak to them, if you feel up to it. I'm sure they would appreciate it and do the same for you." Doctor Tether turned around, left Ross, then walked over to Alex, checking the monitor on his side. Ross also went towards Smith, worried about hurting Trott, and placed his hand over the larger mans curled up palm.

  
"Hey mate." He spoke, choking a little as he did. "How you doing? Sorry, stupid question. I don't know if you can hear me, or anything, but it's me, Ross, and I'm here, okay? Just hang in there, alright. Hang in there mate. I know it hurts, it's going to hurt. But we can get through this. We can do this."

 


	5. All my enemies

All my enemies (5)  
  
Kim rushed in through the double automatic doors, and went straight to the desk.  
She had to wait behind a man who was holding his stomach and talking to the person behind the desk, so she stood impatiently, tapping her feet on the clean white floor. She sent a quick text to Lewis while she was there, saying 'I'm here, waiting at the desk.'

It took a good five minutes for the man in front to move away and take a seat. The desk was higher than the small woman had expected, she had to stand on the tip of her toes to make eye contact with the man behind the desk.

"Hi!"' He spoke cheerfully. "What's the problem?"

"I'm here for my friends, could you tell me where they are?" Kim smiled, trying not to look worried.

"What are their names?" He asked.

"Chris Trott, Al-"

"Oh, right, the resus case." Interrupted the man. "I'll send someone through to get you." Just as he said this, Lewis appeared round the corner.

"Oh, don't worry, my friend is here now- over there- the little one." Kim explained, and smiled at the man.

"Oh yeah, I talked to him before. See you later."

"See you." Kim strode over to Lewis at quite a pace. He didn't say a thing. "How are they?"

"Ross is fine, he's in the relatives room at the moment. They've taken Smith through for surgery on his leg, and Trott's having some scan or something- I don't really know." The small man looked tired, it was just about nine O'clock, things must have been stressful. "I'm glad your here, anyway. Thank you."

"It's okay. Can you tell me what happened?" Lewis was being quite vague on the details, and Kim wasn't really sure what had gone on.

"Come with me to the room they let us stay in, and I'll let you know. Ross can tell you some stuff too." He walked through another set of double doors, and Kim followed after him, narrowly avoiding a nurse who was sprinting down the corridor.

"So, what's happened then?"

"They had some argument in the car, over some bet Ross and Sips made, and Smith and Trott swapped seats so Smith was driving."

"Is that when they crashed?" Kim asked, her eyes widening.

"No. Trott got annoyed at the reckless driving and that, and they swapped back again. They made up just seconds before they got hit. It was Trott's fault technically, he was driving, and went through a red light. The other driver was going over the speed limit anyway, it made the whole after effect a lot worse."

"How badly hurt are they?" Kim muttered, her expression changing from shocked to sorrowful.

"Pretty bad. The other driver and Ross have light injuries, Ross has broken his arm." Lewis sighed. "Neither Smith or Trott and seat belts on. They got hit pretty bad. Both have head injuries, and they're not sure whether they are going to wake up or not. Smith is having surgery on his leg currently, so he shouldn't lose it completely, but it's going to need a lot of time to heal. And they're checking Trott's back, but they're almost certain it's broken."

"He's broken his back?"

"Probably. We can't tell whether he will be paralysed or not until he wakes up. If he wakes up."

"What do you mean 'if' he wakes up?" Kim stopped walking as Lewis opened a door for her to walk through.

"I mean it is quiet likely that they won't survive this." Lewis whispered, as he shut the door, and took a seat next to the dark haired man who looked like he was trying not to cry.

"How you doing Ross?" Asked the small woman.

Ross gave a little hum in response, not giving a full answer. Kim was used to him being quiet, his speech depended heavily on agreeing with Smith and teasing at Trott. Other than that he was a very quiet man, and it wasn't too out of the normal that he wasn't speaking at that time.

"Are you guys going to be okay here? I'm going to go and get some drinks from the cafe." Asked Lewis, standing up.

"Yeah. We'll be fine, right Ross?"

"Yeah, you go." Ross smiled, and watched as Lewis left the room. He then put his hands over his face, and let his head loll backwards over the chair. "This is shit." He whispered.

"I know. We'll get through it though. Things will be shit for a while." Kim comforted.

"People keep saying that." Groaned Ross.

Kim lifted her friends head up. "Saying what? That things will be shit?"

"Well yeah, basically." Laughed the boy. "But I mean people saying that 'we'll get through it'. What if we don't?" He asked, his face looking fearful.

"We will. Whatever happens." Kim smiles, putting her hand over the hand of the tall man.

"But you don't mean we, you mean me." Ross frowned. "If they die it's just fucking me, in a world by myself. And I've only broken my fucking arm when both of them are in intensive care or whatever."

"Hey, they're not in intensive care yet, we don't know what's going to happen. And anyway, Chris and Alex are everyone's friends too. You're not in this alone."

Ross sniffed. "You called them Chris and Alex." He whispered. "They call each other that, but nobody else did. Apart from -like- parents and such."

"Oh, sorry- I didn't-"

"No, doesn't matter. I'm thinking about stupid things now."

"Have they x-rayed your arm yet?" Asked Kim, changing the subject.

Ross frowned. "No, but they could see it was broken anyway. They're going to X-ray it and put it in a proper cast when we know what's happening with the others." He explained.

"Oh, that makes sense. Does it hurt?"

"My arm? No. Not really."

"Other things hurt more?" Kim smiled sadly, just about understanding.

"Yeah." Kim could see that the younger mans eyes were filling up with tears as he looked down at his knees.

"Hug?" She suggested, not really sure if it would help. Obviously a hug was just what Ross needed, as Kim found herself being engulfed by a rather large man, especially compared to her small form. She could practically feel him shaking against her. Poor thing.

"Do you remember all the stupid Minecraft stuff we filmed a while back?" Asked the small woman, while she stroked her friends back. "Where we made you look all evil, and all the fans thought we were enemies?" After receiving no answer, Kim moved on. "Or that time at Yogtowers together, and you picked up me, and Smith picked up Trott, then you both ran off with us."

Ross laughed. "Didn't Smith nearly drop Trott off the edge of a building?"

"Yeah, and Lewis got really Arsey about the whole thing."

"Yeah, that was fun." Ross pulled away from Kim, and sat down in the same seat as before.

"Or all those stupid videos you made. What was the one I watched with Hannah? Where you nearly got shot by that farmer?" Laughed the small girl.

"What? Oh you mean filthy day! That was fun to make. I swear I had to hose both of them down in the back garden after that, they had horse shit everywhere."

"It was a great video though, so sweet. If a little shippy, you wonder why fans write all that fanfic and stuff."

"Yeah. " Ross smiled, then frowned again.

"You're gonna be waiting a while, I'm afraid, especially if you're waiting for Smith to get out of surgery." Kim changed the subject again. "Do you want to get your arm done up, after Lewis gets back."

"Yeah. Why not." He accepted, and fiddled with the sling around his arm a bit.

  
Lewis returned about ten minutes later. In that time Kim and Ross had discussed a lot, the conversation had moved onto pets, and Ross was explaining about his dogs by the time the door opened. Of course, Kim knew all this stuff already, but she was happy to keep her friend talking about something else, especially as as soon as he had finished talking he would suddenly remember what had happened, and fall completely silent.

"Oh, you're talking." Smiled Lewis. "Good."

Kim groaned, and made a joke. "You took your time."

"There was a queue." Said Lewis seriously, taking a seat, and handing both Kim and Ross a takeaway cup. "It's tea, all they had."

"That's fine." Muttered Ross, suddenly quiet again. He held the paper cup in his good hand.

"I'm gonna head back to Yogtowers." Explained the man who had just entered. "Am I okay to leave you guys here? I need to sort some stuff out and explain to people what's happened."

"That's fine. Ross is gonna get his arm properly strapped up, so I'll be okay holding fort here. I can tell you if anything else happens." Kim smiled.

"Is that alright Ross?"

"Yeah, fine. I need to get it done at some point."

"Right. Come with me- bring the drink- and we'll go speak to that doctor guy, see what we need to do." Explained Lewis, acting like a dad to the younger boy.

 

  
Ross stood up silently, and walked out the door, Lewis jogging after him, and Kim watched them disappear. She had only been there for a quarter of an hour, and she had dealt with a Ross she had never dealt with before.

  
A bleep interrupted her thoughts, making her jump up in the uncomfortable plastic chair. She pulled a phone out of her coat pocket, realising she hadn't taken her jacket off. Removing the coat, she unlocked her phone, to find a text from Hannah.

'Why aren't u at the office? You need to talk to Lewis, somethings happened.'

'It's fine' replied Kim, assuming that the thing that Hannah was taking about was the accident. 'I'm at the hospital, Lewis asked me to go.'

There wasn't much else to do, sitting in the room, so the woman decided to look up some stuff on her smartphone. Looking through pages and pages about various injuries. And the slim recover rates. Somehow, her search history brought her to what appeared to be a piece of fanfiction. Her brain took a moment to register that it was about the hat boys, and took another moment to bring herself to click on it. The first couple of chapters were quite sweet, although unrealistic, because all three of them were being nice to each other. Then it got to the romance bit. Again, it was unrealistic, they were being too good with each other. If her two friends were in a relationship, they would not be buying each other flowers, it would certainly be a more heated arrangement. The next chapter was very cliche, but caught her interest more than anything before. Smith ran off, cheated with some girl, Trott got upset and ran off into an alleyway, by himself, at night. People came out with a knife, and stabbed it into his stomach. Smith found him on the street, they made up and Trott passed out. Smith went with him to the hospital, then fainted into Ross' arms. A doctor came out and explained that their friend was in a coma. Kim turned the page, wanting to know what happened next, worrying because it was such a similar situation to the one she was in. But it hadn't been updated. The woman didn't even bother adding it to her library. She didn't want to read anymore.

Sadly, Kim put her phone away. She sat, watching the clock for 5 minutes, until the door opened and a scrubs clad woman entered.

"Hi- I'm Chris' doctor. Can I talk to you? Or is Ross around?" She asked.

"Yeah, sorry, he's getting his arm X-rayed. What is it?" Kim smiled.

"So you are aware that Alex is still in surgery for his leg?" Kim nodded, and the doctor continued. "Well, we are certain now that Chris has broken his back, it's quite seriously damaged."

"Can he move?" Asked Kim, aware of the consequences it could have. She had looked it up enough to know that very few of those consequences led to a positive result.

"We're not sure yet, he also has quite a serious brain injury, and-" She paused for a second, and sighed. "-unfortunately your friend has fallen into a coma. I'm sorry, we were trying to avoid it as best as we could, but keeping him awake was just not possible."

"How long till he wakes up?"

"It could be days, weeks, months even. We can't be sure, but we'll see how things go. I'm sorry."

"But he's alive?" Asked the small woman.

"For now, yes."

"So that's good?" It wasn't good. She knew it wasn't good. But she had to ask. 

"We are really not sure whether he will be able to survive these injuries, this was a very serious accident."

"Oh." Sighed Kim. "Shit."

 


	6. Who would you live for?

Who would you live for? (6)  
  
The first thing that Alex Smith remembered was pain. It wasn't a localised pain, in just one area, but his whole body. It was like he as being stabbed by a million knives all at once. Well maybe not that much, but it still hurt.

It took a while to think about what happened. Yes, it hurt, and he could faintly hear a bleeping noise, and the sound of voices. Other than that it was silent. It was like the noises were outside, and he was inside. Wherever he was, it was weird. He couldn't see anything, he couldn't feel the ground he was standing on, he couldn't feel air around him, only pain. It was almost like his mind was separate to his body.

Oh yeah. Shit. They crashed the fucking car.

But that didn't answer anything. Where was he know? Was he dead? Is this what the after life is like?

Something told him he wasn't dead. Being dead would have to be better than this. Anyway, why would he be able to hear people?

The voices didn't appear to be talking to him. They were talking around him, and the more he listened, Smith realised they were talking about him, or more talking about his body, saying stuff like "he's stable now." And "his leg should heal normally now, at least." So he hurt his leg. Smith wasn't really sure where his leg was, but something had happened to it.

It was then he heard someone talking to him. "Hello Alex. I'm doctor Tether. Can you hear me?"

Smith tried to respond, almost shouting a "Yeah, I can!" But the sound was only in his mind. The doctor continued anyway.

"You've just had surgery on your leg, Alex, and you have an injury to your head."

Smith tried to respond again, but nothing.

The voice then stopped talking to Smith directly, and seemed to talk to someone behind him. "Yeah, he's almost totally unresponsive. Not quite as bad as the other one, but I'm pretty sure he's in a similar state."

The other one? Who was the other one? It could be Trott, Ross, or someone in the other car. Either way, someone was hurt.

Smith wished there was something he could do, but he was trapped, a prisoner in his own body. He wanted to speak, he wanted to talk, he wanted to know what had happened, where his friends were. They had really fucked up. This was typical of them, fucking stuff up just before something important. Trott was probably panicking so much.

The tall man was aware that the voices around him seemed to move or maybe his body was moved, and the voices died down, till there was only one, the voice of the doctor who spoke before.

"Okay, Alex, this is your room, and your friend will be in the room just next to you. We're just going to sort some stuff out, and we're going to run some more tests. I've got a couple of people who want to come through and talk to you, they'll be through in a few seconds."

Smith would have smiled. This should explain something. He heard the door open, and the footsteps of someone walking out.

For a while, all he could hear was the in time bleeping of a machine. It sounded like a heartbeat. Smith thought it was probably his. Good to hear. He heart was still beating at least. The pristine sound of this beat was soon broken, as he heard the door open again, and more footsteps clouded his thoughts.

  
"Alright mate." Came one voice. Ross. Ross was okay. Did that mean Trott had been badly hurt? It kinda made sense, Trott was in the front of the car.

"Yeah, how you doing? We're going to look so stupid, you know Smith, talking to you and getting no answers." This was Kim, Smith could be sure of it, she had a very distinctive accent.

"So they fixed your leg up then? You broke it pretty bad." Smith thought he heard Ross take a seat as he was talking. "Did you hear me earlier, I was talking to you? "

Smith hadn't heard him, but could now. That was improvement, surely? Of course, the man couldn't tell his friend this, and he really hoped that if this was a rate of improvement, he would be able to speak sooner or later.

Despite this, Smith could feel the awkwardness in the air. They were all friends, but it was a situation where he was both simultaneously the centre of attention and lying on a hospital bed, in a hospital, unable to speak.

Oh, the wish to speak. He wanted to know more, he wanted to speak to Ross. He wanted to speak to somebody. Anybody. Nobody had spoken about Trott yet, but he wasn't there. He wasn't speaking. This only lead Smith to assume the worst. Trott must be the 'other one' that was in a worse condition than himself. Shit.

"I don't know how long you're going to be like this, Smith." Sighed Ross. "You better wake up soon you silly prick," he joked, "I can't be dealing with you like this for too long." Smith heard him stop for a second, then continue. "I have a feeling we're all going here some time."

But what about Trott? Why would Ross not speak about Trott? We're things really that bad, or had he just forgotten? Surely he wouldn't forget? Was Trott dead?

All these thoughts in his head were scaring him. Smith wasn't the type of person to be scared easily, but this was scary, the complete and utter lack of control. A fucking six and a half foot giant of a man confined to a bed, unable to move. And there was really only one thing that he could do. Stay alive. Keep living. Keep going. If he assumed that Trott was alive, he could stay alive for him. He could live, keep going. He wasn't going to fucking die until he fucking have up on fucking everybody. On everything.

"I'm going to stay here Smith." He heard the voice of Ross, interrupting his thoughts again. He realised that the other two people in the room must have been talking, because Kim started speaking.

"I'm going to go now, talk to some people, and I'll be outside waiting. Give you two some alone time."

It was only seconds after the small woman left that Smith felt Ross fall apart. He could hear his sobs, the younger man bursting into tears.

"Fuck, I'm so sorry Alex." He coughed out in between sobs. "We really fucked up, right? I don't even know if you can fucking hear me."

Smith wanted to comfort him. Wanted to say that he could hear. Wanted to answer. That wasn't going to happen.

"We're going to have to sort stuff out. I'll speak with Lewis. He was here, too. I don't know if you heard him. You probably didn't." He was still crying, and his speech was slightly choked. "You're doing great. Keep going. Just wake up, at some point. And- yeah. Just keep going. We can sort everything else out later."

Ross said nothing else, but his breathing got a lot louder, and Smith assumed that he had moved his head to lie down next to his ear. His crying slowly softened until it was more like snores. Smith listened to them, counting. 1,2,3,4 1,2,3,4 1,2,3,4.

Yet,as he counted, things seemed to change around him. It was almost like he was standing in a room of white, he could see the room, but could see no horizon. He was there, but he wasn't. He still felt the pain, his leg still hurt, his head still hurt. But it wasn't all darkness anymore. It was bright. Hopeful.

 


	7. Who would you die for?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Whoops, sorry for the lack of updates, I've been very busy! Anyway, I thought I'd post this now anyway, enjoy! (Or not, it's up to you!)

Who would you die for? (7)  
  
Ross realised he must have fallen asleep, because his head was laying on a pillow, and when he checked his cracked phone, the time was half one. He was also not in the same position he was in before, he had been moved from lying with his head next to Smith, to lying across two chairs, a pillow moved under his head, and a blanket laid back over him. He moved to sit up, still with the blanket around him.

"You can get some more sleep if you want." Came a voice from the other side of the room. Ross looked up to see Kim, looking down at her phone. "You must be tired."

"No. I'm okay. Any more news?" He yawned.

"No. Doctors and people kept coming through to check on Smith, and a nurse gave you a blanket, but other than that everything is the same." She sighed. "Actually, can we talk outside?" The small girl stood up, as Ross used his good hand to comb his hair back, then followed her into the corridor.

"What is it?" Whispered the tall man.

"I had a word with the doctor while you were having the x-Ray." She frowned.

"About Trott?"

"Yeah. I didn't tell you straight away, because you were quite focused on Smith, and we were allowed to see him pretty much straight after you got out."

"But what about Trott?"

"He's still in resus at the moment, but they're going to move him to the room next to Smith's."

"Is he as bad as Smith? Is he in a coma too?" Ross whispered.

"Yeah. Sorry. And his back is broken too. The doctor didn't really say how badly-so I don't really know much, but she said we will have to wait until he wakes up to see if it causes paralysis and- yeah. Sorry."

"It's fine." Mumbled Ross. "There wasn't much else we could have done. I wish I had been the one driving. I would die, just so both of them could be fine."

"Don't say that." Expressed the small girl. Suprised at this thought, although she realised moments after that she would do the same had it been Duncan or Hannah. "I'm sorry I should have told you earlier." Kim added, noticing how sad her friend looked.

"No, it doesn't matter. Can I go and see him yet?" Ross had only seen his friend once,

"I don't know, you can go check?" Suggested the dark haired girl.

"Nah, I'm sure they'll tell us. I'll go back to Smith." And with that he turned around, and went back into the room he had just exited from. Kim stood in the corridor. It was no wonder to her that Ross had fallen asleep. It had been a very long day, and a little part of the small woman just really wanted to go home, or go to the office. Pretend nothing had happened.

Finding the hospital a little to warm for her liking, Kim unzipped her hoodie, and strode with confidence back to where Ross was sat, softly stroking Smith's auburn hair. He was humming a little tune while he did it, his large hands floating between each strand. The young man didn't even look up to see Kim's entrance, he was rather absent minded to the whole thing. The dark haired girl put a hand on his shoulder, and when he didn't look around, she tapped his forehead slightly.

"We need to call people. Family members and such." She sighed, although she could almost feel the answer that was coming.

"Why?" Muttered Ross.

"They need to know."

"I don't know their numbers. Anyway I doubt they'd come. Trott's parents don't like Smith, and don't agree with him working for YouTube. I don't think spoken in some time. And Smith wouldn't want his parents here, especially with his dad so ill, they wouldn't be able to get here." Ross sighed, now tracing circles on Smiths forehead, which was surprisingly unbruised amid unscathed, considering he had such a serious head injury; all the bruising and scars were on the back of his skull, and Ross was glad he couldn't see them.

"We should let them know anyway." Kim sighed, looking into Ross' blue eyes.

"Like I said, Trott has all the numbers, and god knows where is phone has gone. Calling smiths parents will just make thing worse for them, we can tell them when he makes some improvement. Or gets worse." The last sentence the boy said was incredibly mumbled, and Kim wasn't sure whether that was so Smith didn't hear it, or so Ross himself could block what was a very likely outcome out of his mind.

"What about your family?" Spoke the girl. She only got a shake of the head as an answer, so decided not to enquired more. They all sat (or lay) in silence for at least a minute. Nobody spoke, as they either couldn't, or didn't want too. Feeling awkward, Kim stood up, and not expecting Ross to turn to face her, spoke again. "I'm going to phone Lewis. Update him on stuff, you know. Are you fine with him telling all the others what happened, where you all are?"

Ross hummed, and Kim slid out of the door, letting it groan a little as it shut. She went back to the reception area, which was surprisingly quiet for an A&E. She flicked her phone on, and combed her dark brown hair back. Lewis was the last person she had called, so it was easy to find his name on the list.

 

"Kim, hi thanks for calling." Came his voice, loud and fast in her ear. "Any updates? How's Ross taking it?"

"Not too well. He's not much different to when you left." Kim frowned a little, pacing round the floor a little.

Kim heard Lewis sigh. "I didn't expect him to be. Never Mind. I assume that there are bigger problems? What's the news?"

"Both Chris and Alex are in a coma, Lewis." She used their first name's, it didn't feel right at that moment to use nicknames, especially as she could feel glares of the few other people around. "Smiths surgery went well. His leg should heal fine now,"

"That's good I guess." Lewis spoke, but he did not sound happy. "And Trott's back?"

"He's broken his spine. I don't know where, or in how many places." Kim sighed, looking at the posters that lined the wall.

"Fuck." Was all that Lewis whispered back.

"We haven't actually seen him yet, but he's stable now apparently, so at least that's something."

"Is he going to have surgery too?" Asked the man.

"I'd assume so. We've just been with Smith-Alex the whole time. And we didn't want to say anything that might upset him, just incase he can hear us." Kim explained. "Ross says it's fine for people at the office to know what's happened. He says they need to know."

"That's fine, I'll tell them. Are you planning on staying there all day, or do you want me to ask someone else to join you?"  
  
Kim took a moment to think before answering. "I'll stay, at least until we find out what's happening with Trott. And probably until they're stable enough for me to leave, because I don't want Ross to be here by himself if something bad happens."

"Will you be able to calm him down if it does?" Asked Lewis, very aware that this could happen.

"I can try. We're good friends. But I doubt we'll get him to leave, especially back to a house all by himself."

"Maybe they'll let him stay at the hospital, considering he has two friends that are both in a coma here. We can bring him some blankets and stuff if he needs it." Lewis offered.

"Thats a good point. I'll speak to the staff, they already gave Ross a blanket an a pillow, and I'll see if they can set him up with a bed in one of the boys rooms. Maybe on some chairs or something. But we could really do with some stuff being brought in." Kim explained.

"Name it, I'll do my best. I'll find someone to take it over."

"Well phone chargers, some food maybe, some wash stuff for Ross, some clothes for Ross; his are torn, and maybe Trott's walrus, you know, the toy one on his keyboard." Kim laughed at that last one, she was sure that even if Trott couldn't appreciate it, Ross would like him to have it there.

"Okay. That's fine, I'll deal with it. I'm going to go speak to everyone now, explain what has really happened. Text me - or phone me again, if we get anymore updates or you find out what's happening with Trott's back."

 

"Okay. See ya." Kim smiled, but without her usual enthusiasm, as she made her way back the way she came, only to be stopped by the receptionist.

"Hi, sorry, are you here with Alex Smith and Chris Trott?" He typed something into his computer.

"Yeah, what do you need?"

"A phone number please, yours, the other man involved in the crash, and the other gentleman that was here before." He explained.

"Sorry, do you mind if I ask why?" Kim raised her eyebrows.

"Oh, it's just so the police can send you some photos, for recognition, and working out what happened."

Kim didn't really want to see pictures, but figured that she wasn't going to get out of this, and it was something that needed doing. "Ross' phone was completely destroyed in the crash, it's all smashed in. But I can give you mine and Lewis'"

"That's fine, what's your full name please?"

"Kim Richards."

"And your number?"

Kim recited her number, then repeated the same for Lewis, looking in her phone for his contact details. She then waved the receptionist goodbye, and slunk back into Smith's room.

  


	8. A bullet for everybody in this room

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry this took so long again- I've been a little preoccupied, and forgot to post this.... Sorry :)

A bullet for everybody in this room (8)  
  
Lewis turned his phone off, and stood up from his office chair. We hadn't spoken much to although they knew generally what had happened, just from the vague stuff he had mumbled on his way in. He was also very aware that in the few hours between when he got back from the hospital and the phone call from Kim, he had done practically nothing. He had called the warehouse, explained why they wouldn't be there, and phoned up block and load, and had a fairly pleasant conversation, and came to the conclusion that either another challenge would be filmed when everyone is well enough to do it, or Kim and Hannah would be included instead. He hadn't mentioned that to anyone.

Other than that, the man had sat in his office alone. Starring at the computer screen, looking through schedules, but not editing them. He knew that people were standing outside his office, and he had given a brief instruction for everyone to keep working, but he was almost certain that nobody was. It was time he did something, anyway.

Opening the door, he was, as expected, bombarded with people. Lewis flicked off the light, and took a look at his watch as he stepped out. Quarter to two. Not late, but not early either. Too early for this to happen.

"You were on the phone?" Enquired Hannah, who was sat on the floor by the door. She hadn't spoken much to Lewis recently, but that was to be expected.

"Kim. " He sighed, not speaking anything else, until he was forced to spin round, as another person's voice entered his head.

"And.." Spoke Duncan, who was leaning against the wall, putting his phone away. "How are things, when will they be back?"

"Erm," Lewis shuffled forward a bit. "Can one of you go around and get everybody? Tell them to meet in the common room?"

"Yeah. Sure." Duncan strode forward down the corridor, sticking his head through doors on the way, leaving Hannah to stand up.

 

The blonde girl brushed down her jeans, and pulled her t-shirt down. She moved her hair out of her face, and looked Lewis in the eye. She frowned before she spoke. "I'm guessing it's not good then?"

"No, not from what Kim's said. It's not much more than I've told you before, just stuff confirmed, and, well I'll tell you when I tell everyone else." He didn't want to have to say everything twice. "Kim also asked if someone could bring some stuff over."

"I'll take it. What do they want?"

"Just some clothes, stuff for Ross, and I think she said something about Trott's walrus. They have a key to their house in one of the top draws, or on a desk."

"I'll head there after you've explained it." Hannah gave a nervous smile, and turned to head into her own office, presumably to pick up a car key, leaving Lewis standing alone in the corridor. He brushed a hand through his slightly sweaty hair, and wiped it on his jeans.

"I'll see you in the common room." He mumbled, although he was sure that his ex girlfriend did not hear it, so he headed down to the room that everyone had arranged to meet in. It was not till he was halfway down the corridor that Lewis felt his phone vibrate in his pocket. Intrigued, he took it out to look at the text he presumed was from Kim. It wasn't.

The message was a photo, accompanied by a piece of text. 'We are legally required to send you this photo to confirm this car is owned by the people involved in the accident, and also require you to provide an address so we can deposit the personal items found within the wreck.'

The photo took a few seconds to load, and Lewis almost wished it hadn't. Ross' black BMW was not so recognisable anymore. He wasn't surprised, he could see the dents in he side fit with the injuries that Trott and Smith had. He was more amazed that Ross wasn't worse, that he had only suffered a broken arm and cracked ribs. He guessed seat belts really do save lives.

 

Hannah shuffled through her own office desk, trying to find the keys she had so carelessly thrown in there that morning. Snatching them out, she threw them, caught them again, and chuckled to herself as they landed perfectly with a jangle, into her palm.

The blonde girl shut the draw with her foot, then sprinted out her room, realising she had spent rather too much time searching than she had wished. Down the corridor, as fast as she could, and bursting into the common room, she nearly ran into someone.

"Oh, sorry Sips, I didn't see you there." Hannah panted, scratching the back of her neck softly as she spoke.  
  
"S'alright," he muttered, not even looking up from the seat he was sat in.

Hannah was surprised at his reaction, or the lack of. Normally, he would have done something stupid- fallen off his chair and cried 'ohhh Hannah!" in the way he normally does. He didn't though, just sat in silence. That was to be expected. Although nobody blamed the man, they all knew that Sips blamed himself for the accident. They knew how he felt, how he knew that the argument that had caused them to crash was caused by his bet. That stupid fucking bet.

  
It was also noticeable that no one in the room was speaking. Not one person. Hannah joined in the awkward silence of people checking their phones and making quiet sighs, until a small, dark haired man strode in.  
  
Lewis coughed before speaking. "Erm." He stuttered. "I suppose you all have some idea what's happened, but I haven't said anything more." After pausing for a second, and looking to Hannah, who slowly nodded her head, he carried on. "As you know, all three of our Hat boys were involved in a car accident earlier today. And, it does seem that both Chris and Alex are in quite a critical condition."

Nobody said a word. It was silent.

"I need everyone to continue as normal, as much as we can." Although everyone in that room knew things would be different. Quieter, at least.

"How badly injured are they, exactly?" Came another male voice, recognisable as Tom.

Lewis looked at his feet. "It's pretty bad. Ross is fine, but the other two are both comatose, from what Kim told me. There's also suspicions of other injuries." He did not go further into the details, simply because he didn't want to.

 

People began to leave the room, slowly filing out in groups, yet still not speaking until they left the common room and were in the corridor. Duncan walked up to Lewis, ducking his head a little, and lowering his voice.

"What about from a professional point of view, what are you going to do." Frowned the blond man. "If they are as sick as you say they are, how do we tell fans? Hat films is one of the biggest channels, best growing, you know.."

"Yeah. I know." Lewis whispered back, also frowning. "If Ross is up to it he'll make a video. If not, either Kim or I will do it. We'll see how things go."

Hannah shot one glance at Lewis, then left the room herself, not heading to her own office, but to the Hat's. Their office door was shut, but not locked, as she made her way in, and shuffled over the messy carpet, littered with T-shirts.

The blonde girl chuckled to herself a she made her way across to the green divider, shuffling through the mass of figures and food wrappers on Smiths desk, to pick up the house keys that she knew would be carelessly thrown there that morning. She tucked them into her pocket, then walked slowly to the desk behind the red parting.

Trott's desk was, unsurprisingly, much tidier. Behind his divider was a haven of calm, the eye of the storm. Remembering what Lewis had said about the stuffed toy, Hannah picked up the fluffy walrus plushie, and stared at its off centre, derpy face. It was a little like Trott really. Stupid looking but still sweet. Hannah held it in her arms as she waded through the mess through to Ross' desk, and knelt down on the floor beside his set of draws. She pulled out some stuff; a book, a can of deodorant etc, and after pilling them into her arms, she headed back out the room, out the office, then into her car.

Chucking her armful onto the back seat, Hannah started up the engine, strapped herself in, then pulled out onto the road, heading to the Hat house. She wasn't quite sure what to expect, when she got to the hospital that was. But she knew she had to go. Amd she wasn't about doing anything halfway. Especially when this wasn't just affecting those that had been in the crash. It was affecting everyone.


	9. It's fun to fantasise

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey guys, it's me again. I'm sorry the update are a bit sporadic, but I've been a little limited on time with exams and stuff. I really hope your enjoying this at least a little, I know I'm not the best writer, but this helps. Anyway- enjoy (or not)

It's fun to fantasise (9)

Was he dead? He couldn't be sure. Sensation seemed not to exist around him, the white engulfed him, scared him. Yet, despite how small he felt, there was nothing. Nobody. Emptiness. Was this heaven? No, scrap that. If heaven did exist, the it would have to be better than this. And besides, Smith had always said that he would see him in hell.

He probably would after this. Was this his punishment? For what he did. This was his fault, that was obvious to him. Had he killed his friends? If he himself was dead, what was the likeliness that they had survived it? How was he to know? Would he feel like this for eternity? This guilt.

Just because he was stupid. Stupid. Stupid. He was an idiot. Had he just been calm, let them do their thing. Whatever it was, he couldn't remember now. Things seemed so distant in this world that blanketed him. His senses betraying him as he had so betrayed the others. Smith, Ross, the other driver who he didn't even know. Their lives in his hands.

To say that he had been in what he assumed was a devastating car accident, he seemed relatively unscathed. His hands, which he could see a a not quite opaque for, in front of him, looked normal. The bones protruding slight as the always had done on his fingers and knuckles. His arms looked normal, slightly shiny and glowing, but other than that, normal. He went through, shaking all his limbs, feeling round his face and torso to try and find something, an imperfection or anything. Nothing. It was all normal. Any scars he was aware of from before the accident, the two circles below his hand from the Segway incident, the one on his knee from the rollerblades..... They were all gone. Disappeared. Although this may have felt like a good thing, it meant nothing. All it proved was that he was not in the reality he knew. Or he was dead, as suspected before.

Chris Trott was not a man who enjoyed being alone. This was evident. He would sit in the middle of everyone, never travel by himself, spend hours at the office not just to catch up on work, but to chat to people. Although it was sometimes a relief to be away from humanity for a while, away from his friends for a while, it was not at that very moment. At that moment he wanted comfort, someone to twist their hand through his hair, to hold him tight. He needed somebody, because judging from the incidents that had already taken place, he could not trust himself.

The problem, or at least one of the problems, was what to do. Sit here and wait for eternity? Or walk into the unknown, to the horizon.

The step forward did not seem to do anything. There was nothing to tell Trott he was moving, apart from ten feeling of movement at his legs. Other than that he could just be standing still. That was no reason to stop though. If he could keep walking, he could find something. Find Ross. Smith. Somebody. Anybody.

"Hello?" Called out the young man, the voice leaving his lips but echoing much louder than he had imagined it would. "Ross? Smith?"

Trott didn't want to hear a reply from them. Well, he did. He didn't want to be alone, but he assumed that if his friends were here with him, they would be in a similarly bad situation. He called out anyway, walking as he spoke.

"Guys? Are you here? Do you know where we are?" The horizon did not change. Crystal white remained in front, behind and to either side of the man, no matter where he moved.

"Guys..... Please." Was he going to cry? Could a man cry once they had died? "Guys? Guys?"

"Trott?"

What the fuck was that? Trott was not expecting an answer. The voice sounded choked, in pain.

"What-"

"Trott? You're alive?"

Trott spam round looking in every direction he could, but seeing nothing. He squinted his eyes. Nothing, just the still white.

"No- I mean- I don't know." Was he alive? Who was this?

"You little bastard, how are you here too?" The voice spoke again, and it was only at the point that the speech became insulting, that he realised who it was. It was all to late though, for him to speak, because he felt a presence behind him, making him jump out of his skin.

The sound of footsteps behind him was slightly unnatural, but recognizable, somehow. The smaller man span around on the spot to turn and face the tall man, who was grinning down at him. Trott did not return the smile.

 

"Trott, tell me you're real, say your alive and I'm not just imaging you to fill up this space." Smith laughed, the pleasure creeping through his voice that was so obviously full of pain.

"I don't know." Frowned the small man. "Ross? -is he here too?"

"No, Ross is fine, I can hear him now. You made me so fucking scared, I was sure you were dead. He wouldn't mention you, and I thought-"

"You can hear Ross?" Trott whispered. "He's there talking to you?"

"Well, not really talking to me. But I can hear him. Think he's fallen asleep or something though. Or left the room. Or he's just sat watching, you know what he's like-"

"Does that mean you're alive?"

"Why wouldn't I be alive?" It was a stupid answer, to an odd question. There were any reasons as to why Smith wouldn't be alive, and to Trott, it did seem like a higher possibility. He didn't argue anyway. Smith was there. Smith. The great bastard. "Trott?"

The man jumped out of his thoughts (if he could have been thinking, he was unsure where he was right now) and spoke to Smith again. "I can't hear Ross."'

"Oh."

They stood in silence for a few moments, then Smith spoke again. "I'm sure he's just not spoken to you yet. Can you hear anything? Hospital noises?"

Trott shook his head. "Only you."

"I'm sure it's fine."'

"Smith, am I dead?"

Neither spoke again. Not on that subject at least, as Smith sat down on the white floor, and Trott joined him. Purposely avoiding the question, thought Trott, was just Smiths way of not giving an answer neither of them wanted to hear.

His thoughts were interrupted once again by Smith, the tall man giving a little whimper as Trott sat next to him, the sound visibly muffled, but not quite concealed.

"Are you in pain?"

"Yeah, a bit." Smith laughed, although it was obvious that it was more than that. "I think the painkillers they gave me have started to wear off."

Painkillers. Maybe that was why Trott couldn't hear or feel anything that Smith could. If he was so jacked up on painkillers, he wouldn't be able to, right? Maybe he only had to wait for a few moments and then he'd hear Ross. That would be good.

"Where does it hurt Smith?" Enquired the smaller man further.

Smith winced a little as he stretched out. "Leg, mainly. Your gonna love this Chrissy, with your pain threshold."

Trott laughed a little. "Did you just call me Chrissy?"

"Look Trott, we're stuck in the middle of somewhere that probably doesn't exist, and I'm speaking to you through my mind. I can call you Chrissy if I want."

"What do you mean you're speaking to me through your mind?"

The tall man frowned. "Sorry."

"Why are you apologising?"

"I didn't realise you wouldn't feel the same. This just feels like part of my mind. Like meditation. Fantasy. Is this all real for you?"

Trott nodded.

"Awwww Trotty. We'll get through this, I promise."

"So you could leave if you wanted to?"

"No." Smith frowned. "But I might without you knowing."

"Please don't." Trott sniffed. "I don't want to be here alone."

 

"I know, Trott. I'll try. I Promise I'll try."

 

 

 

 


	10. In the sun

In the sun (10) 

"Kim I want to go see Trott." The man looked up for, his slumped bedside position.

Kim, who had just walked in, was surprised. "I know. I forgot to check, sorry. - I can go now if you want?"

"No. Stay please."

The dark haired girl took a seat, but not saying a word.

"They'll come and get us right? If we can see him?" Ross sighed.

The woman looked at the door, then back at Ross. "Sure. Why wouldn't they?" 

"Because people have come in, they didn't say much." 

"What do you mean Ross?" Questioned Kim.

"I don't know, they just patted me on the shoulder a bit, fiddled with some stuff on Smith." 

Ross was not thinking in the right frame of mind. That was obvious to Kim, as anyone else would have worked out that doctors coming in to check on Smith were probably not going to know much about Trott. But in Ross' mind, it was all that mattered. He could see one of his friends, alive, and he wanted to see the other one.

Kim kicked her legs back. "I'm sure it's fine. " Although she knew it probably wasn't. 

The man sat in silence at her comment. 

Not one of the three people in the room spoke for a good few minutes, yet the two that could did not share an awkward glance, too deep in thought to recognise their surroundings. 

 

"Someone's going to bring some stuff in." Whispered the small woman, not surprised when she didn't get more than just a hum and a nod in reply. "Do you want anything else?" 

Sniffing, Ross lifted up in his seat. "I want to turn back time." 

"You know-" Kim sighed as she was interrupted.

"Yeah, I know. No, I'm fine thanks. I don't need anything." 

Ross was paler than usual, absent mindlessly fiddling with the cast on his arm, picking anxiously at the white fluff that stuck out of the top. He was rested upon the creased bed sheets that covered his friend, not quite close enough to touch, but close enough that it looked like he was guarding him. A wolf with the injured member of his pack, not willing to leave him behind. 

Things were good before. Things were too good before. Of course, they had had their problems, everyone had, everyone does. But things had been good. Bearable. Now they were anything but. 

The even bleeping that rang through the small room was mixed with the scent of hospital standard cleaning soap that stuck to your throat and lungs. The bright white walls encased them like a coffin, posters stuck in various places as if to cover cracks that were soon to break from the build up of tension. Eyes were automatically lead down to the dark screen above the bed, anyone that went into the room looked at the monitor at least once, eyes darting across the coloured lines as they recorded the up, down, up, down that meant nothing to Ross and Kim. A bag of clear liquid hung just next to it, lifted up on a metal frame. Nurses would come in and tweak the bottom of it occasionally, watching as the liquid pooled from the top, down the translucent pipe, and into the pale white of the sleeping mans arm. A mask covered Alex's face as if it were a gag, preventing him from speaking, stickers were visible from underneath the hospital gown, black wires linking his chest and the monitor. His legs were not visible from underneath the blanket, but a build up on one side showed tell tale signs of the operation, the bandages creating a mound in the ocean of covers. 

An hour passed, and not one person spoke. Was it the shock? Was it just exhaustion? People would enter, exit, say nothing. They would say nothing back. Just waiting, for some news, some anything. But nothing. 

 

Ross had almost fallen asleep again by the time Hannah walked in, face flushed and arms full with a large bag.

"Hey-" she whispered. "Can I come in?" 

"Yeah, take a seat." Kim smiled as she saw the concern behind Hannah's eyes.

"I brought some stuff- Ross." She dragged a seat out.

Ross didn't smile as she looked down at him. "Thanks." He muttered.

"You doing okay? Does your arm hurt?" Hannah smiled at Ross in a way that didn't really show anything but worry.

"No. Not really." 

Hannah sat down and opened the bag. "And how are the other two? Sorry, stupid question."

"Erm well- Smith- Alex you can see him- he's like that. He's had surgery on his leg, and he's in a coma- kinda- but it's not as bad as it could have been- and he might even be semi conscious. Which is good." 

"And-"

Hannah noticed that Kim gave a look of warning, but said nothing.

Ross shrugged. "I haven't seen him. He's alive- just about."

"Oh Ross. This is going to be hard." Hannah bit her lip.

"Yeah. Does everybody know?" Ross sighed, not looking at the woman,

"Lewis told them, yeah." Hannah smiled, and handed Ross the bag. "There's some clothes for you, some wash stuff, phone chargers, some chocolate I think-" 

"What's this?" Ross asked, pulling out a stuffed toy. "Is this?"

"Yeah, for Trott."

"I thought he might like it. You might like it." Kim explained. 

"Yeah. Thanks." The man sat the walrus on his leg. "I'll give it to him when- yeah. Thanks Hannah."

"Whatever you need." Hannah gave a sympathetic pat onto his shoulder. More sympathy. It was always sympathy. Nobody had died. Not yet.

 

It was a difficult place to make conversation. Nobody wished to look at the man on the bed, although they would from time to time, as if to check for movement they know wouldn't happen. Ross, however, spent the time curled up in the chair, eyes on the monitor, watching the line go up and down in steady motions, the numbers he barley understood flicker, and listen to the beep that filled the silence of the room. He wasn't sure what the two women were doing. Kim had been on her phone the whole time, and Hannah would also look down occasionally at a screen. Ross' phone was shattered. He would have to sort that out as well, along with his car. They were all problems for later. 

It was getting dark by the time that anything notable happened. The same doctor that Kim had spoken to before. Dark hair pulled back into a ponytail, bright overalls, Trott's doctor. 

"Hi, you're fine to come through and see Chris now. " She gave a sickly smile. "Just, one at a time please." 

It was obvious who had to go. 

"Ross. Will you be okay?" Kim tapped her feet gently on the floor. 

Ross stood up. "Yeah. Fine. Which way?"

"Just follow me honey." The doctor gave the same smile, then held the door open for Ross to walk through.

 

The man could feel his legs shaking as he walked down the corridor once again, heading away from Smiths room, and towards where he first came in. 

"He's near to resus, just for precautions. But after he's had the surgery, we should be able to move him closer to Alex." The doctor took a sharp turn, and Ross almost tripped catching up.

"You mean he hasn't had his back-" He stuttered.

"Ross, your friend is in a very fragile state, I warn you. " she hummed and took another turn. "If he makes it through all of this, things are still going to be difficult. For all three, of you, and your friends." 

"I understand that" Ross picked at the bandage on his arm while he walked.

"There are some other things I need to tell you. I'm sure you know Alex is in a critical state?" 

Ross hummed in response. He was very aware of that.

"Well, I'm afraid that Chris is much worse. Alex is stable, he could wake up in a couple of days, and we could induce that ourselves, if we are confident his brain has had enough time to heal. At his current condition, if Chris gets worse I'm afraid there won't be much more we can do."

Ross looked up as their walking pace slowed. "You're going to let him die?" 

"I promise you, he is in no pain. And it would be a joint decision made by a lot of people, including you. Whatever is right, best for him." The doctor sighed. Ross knew she must have said things identical to this before, but she still looked pained as she said it. "But I'm not saying that's the only outcome. As soon as your friend is stable, we will take him through to surgery for his back, to try and reduce any effects of paralysis that may occur. There are also a few more major procedures that he may have to go through, I'm sorry." 

He had almost tuned out of listening by then. Ross didn't want to know much more, and although the doctor confined talking, the words from her mouth stopped making sense, and it felt like seconds before they were suddenly stopped outside of a door.

"You can go in alone, if you wish, just be careful not to touch him." The doctor smiled that same painful smile, then slowly pulled the door open. "Go on in." 

Ross took a long breath before walking in. 

 

"Hey Trotty." He whispered, as the door shut with a click behind him. "What the fuck have you gotten yourself into?" 

The room was large, larger than Smith's with a much larger variety of things that Ross didn't understand. This room also had a large window, the setting sun poured through in, light like a blanket over the figure in the bed. 

Again, Ross had to resist the urge to move his fringe back down over his forehead, resist the urge just to hold his friend. But he had to. Ross wasn't sure why the whole fringe thing bothered him so much. It was almost like he was trying to keep one thing normal, keep that constant habit going. 

Still, Trott looked tiny in the bed. Tiny and vulnerable with chest exposed and neck braced back. Trickle of red dripping from the cut on his forehead down onto his closed eyelid, over the brown eyelashes. It was odd to think he was just there, quieter than ever, the product of the crash. The product of their argument.

 

The thought came back to his head. The argument they had had. Would this have happened if not? Or was this just fate? They didn't argue that often, contrary to popular belief. An argument on that scale was a once or twice a year occurrence, not much considering they lived and worked together. Only God, or possibly Trott knew how long he and been upset on the issue before the incident, it could have been building up for weeks, and the whole bet thing triggered an explosion. But that had been hours ago. It had been hours. The sun was setting on the worst day of Ross' life. A day that he could not wait to be over. But a day that he never wanted to finish, just so that tomorrow, nothing would get worse.


	11. But literally

But literally (11)

Hannah entered the room. A number of nurses came and left the room. A doctor came into the room and left with Ross. Ross came back into the room. It was difficult, but it wasn't impossible to work that out. Even with eyes permanently shut and body locked, Smith could do that.

They had stopped talking to him. Every now and again he would feel a hand touch his own, or finger place on his forehead. But nobody talked directly to him. Nobody spoke as if he was still there. He became a part of the room, another piece of furniture.

However, to Smith's happiness, they did speak to each other. Not the conversation he was used to them having. It was quiet and awkward, not like the speech that would go on at the office. But they did mention one thing that they hadn't talked about before. Chris Trott.

"What are they saying Smith? Tell me?"

"They're speaking about you." Smith spoke, in his head. "Hold on a sec."

"Sure."

Smith felt a hand land on the bed, causing a quick, but not unfamiliar sharp pain down his leg. The pain killers pumped into his bloodstream helped, but didn't remove it completely. It wasn't something that he could sort out anyway..

"He's- he's alive." Ross' voice sounded choked. "Just about."

Well that wasn't too good, Smith decided not to relay the second half of the sentence to his friend.

It was Hannah who spoke next. "And you spoke to his doctor? What did she say."

Smith heard no reply. There could have been a shake of the head, or a gesture, but he wouldn't have been able to see it.

  
"You're okay mate." Smith thought, aware he was lying.

"Alex."

"Yeah?"

"Don't lie to me please." Trott's voice wavered at the end, full of fear.

He would have sighed, or rolled his eyes at Trott's constant worrying, if he could have moved. But he knew, that Chris knew, that if he was 'okay', he probably wouldn't be where he was.

"Well, I guess you can figure it out yourself then."

"Is that all you can tell me?" Chris sighed.

"What more do you want? How much more do you think I know? It's not exactly like I can ask them questions."

"I'm sorry."

Smith understood. He didn't want to argue again. Because that worked so well last time. If it ever did happen, when everything was back to normal, they would sort that out. Spread out the responsibility. Although, thought Smith, Ross would probably be dealing with a little more responsibility than any of them were used to at that time.

Nobody in the room spoke for a while. Smith hummed a little tune in his head, along to the beat of his heart, which was given to him by the bleeping machine, which he assumed was attached to his chest, from the feeling there. It was almost poetic, the music along to his heart beat. It would have been romantic to, if Trott had joined in. But he didn't, to his disappointment. The silence was eerie, his humming sad, not even sure whether Chris could hear it. Maybe he was just listening.

  
Somebody entered the room again, shoes squeaking on the floor, and they grabbed a hold of Smiths wrist. The male voice spoke, presumably to Ross, about something along the lines of making things better. Another injection he assumed, another foreign entity in his body. Not that was much he could do about it anyway. He could feel a cool liquid flowing into his veins, the chemicals burning in his bloodstream. But it subsided quickly, and suddenly, the pain that had been underlying for hours now disappeared completely.

The sounds which he had been hearing started to blur and distort, humming and weaving together, until they were gone. The blackness, the dark, also began to fade away, slowly fading away to grey, then white. Was this dying? Was this waking up? He wasn't sure. The sound of the machine was gone, the sound of Ross breathing next to him was gone.

"Chris?" He whispered.

"Yeah?" Came the answer, Smith gave out a sigh of relief. Then he realised. He had whispered it. He moved his lips.

 

Trott was sat down right in front of him.

 

"Shit?" He spat, kicking his leg back. "Fuck."

"What's happened? Alex? Are you okay?"

"I don't know. Shit." He groaned

Trott sounded concerned, and looked panicked. He could see him, he wasn't just encased in one colour. "Does it hurt, Smith? Calm down."

"No, it doesn't hurt at all. Chris, I can see you. You're here."

"Every thing looks the same to me. You just jumped up."

"Did I?" Smith frowned. "I didn't feel it."

Trott smiled, and ran his fingers through his fringe. He looked normal, not hurt, or scared. Just like he would on a summers day, hair reflecting in the bright light that was seemingly coming from everywhere.

"Can you still hear Ross?"

Smith stopped for one second, and listened. "No."

"Do you hear anything?"

"I don't know Trott, somebody came into the room, stuck something into my arm, then I was here."

 

  
"Oh." Trott tapped the ground next to him. "Sit down. You're too tall up there."

Alex complied, and took a seat on the white floor. "Things will be okay, people out there will be doing stuff to make things better." He wasn't sure whether he was saying that to reassure Trott of himself. Probably himself, Trott seemed like he was getting used to 'wherever they were' by now.

He held out a hand for Trott to take, but was surprised to see him shake his head.

"You wont even hold my hand now Trotty?" Smith laughed, although he was a little upset that Chris was declining his offer.

Trott put out his palm. "Try it,"

He laughed awkwardly, and dropped his much larger hand on top of Trott's, attempting to clasp it in his fingers. It passed straight through, just like Chris was an illusion or a hologram.

"Well that ruins my plans for hand jobs at least. " Smith chuckled.

Trott almost face palmed, "First dick joke of the day, and it's a bad one."

"There's plenty more of them to come." His laughs were there, but not like they usually were. "Trott?"

"Yeah?" Trott looked up, brown eyes meeting blue.

"What if you're not here?"

"Well I am." He sighed, and pushed his legs out in front of him. "We've had this conversation before."

"But have we? Am I imagining you? Are you here, like literally."

"I'm not really sure how to convince you either way."

"But- yeah." Smith couldn't think of a reason to argue with.

"We can deal with things as they come, remember. We always do with Hatfilms."

"Always the voice of reason Trotty."

"I know." Trott smirked, then lay down fully, head onto the floor with a thump that echoed for seemingly too long. Smith joined him, unfolding his legs from underneath him, then placing his back down in a much gentler way.

"I tell you, it feels good to be able to move again." Alex knew he wasn't really 'moving' but it was the sensation that mattered. "Being trapped in your own body. It's like being strapped down to the bed."

"I wouldn't know."

"Yeah. It's shit, note of warning."

"Good to know."

 

They were both lying looking up at what was presumably the sky, staring into the white abyss.

"You know, some clouds wouldn't go a miss." Smith pointed.

Trott spoke, but didn't turn his head "Are you suggesting we're cloud watching?"

"Don't you want to go on a picnic date with me?"

"Why are we talking about this now? We were just in a major car accident."

Alex ignored him completely. "Do you love me Trout?"

"Smith, this isn't the time." He laughed, making a joke about this question that he wasn't quite sure how serious the intent of it was.

"But do you love me Trott?" Smith pouted.

"Of course." Trott chuckled. "Do you love me too, Fake Smiffy?"

"Nah, you're much too tiny for me. Dick's too small." He growled through gritted teeth, making gestures with his hands.

"Good to know."

"You're pretty adorable though Chrissy."

Trott sighed. "You called me Chrissy again."

"I can call my boyfriend by whatever name I like." Smith smirked again.  
"Smith, I'm not your boy- how did you get to that conclusion?"

"Well there's two of us here, and we have to procreate somehow." He joked.

"Alex we-" Trott didn't even bother arguing, instead pulled his arms over his head and stretched.

"But seriously, I love you a lot." Smith mumbled.

Trott, who still had his hands over his head, looked round. "What was that?" He raised his eyebrows slightly. "I didn't hear it?"

"Nothing. Just some of the pain coming back." Again, that was not a total lie. There was a tingling of the ache crawling back up from his foot, that he could just feel starting to arise once more. But it definitely wasn't what he had just said to his friend. "The painkillers must be wearing off again."

"This soon?"

"I don't think that there's much of a concept of time here." Smith explained.

"Fair enough."

Smith watched as Trott's eyelids flickered, and chest rose and fell up and down, calm and peaceful, hand tapping a soft beat onto the ground, as he pulled his knees upwards, and turned his head to smile at Smith.

 

"Alex?" He muttered.

Smith hummed in response.

"I'm scared." Trott was almost whispering by this point.

"I know."

 

 

 


	12. Would you ever Kill?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well it's been a while and I doubt anyone actually remembers this, and nobody's gonna read it anymore, but this is actually an update.
> 
> It almost took me a year guys, almost. I'm like a week off it being a year, so it's not the longest it's taken me to update something.
> 
> Anyway, ignore my ramblings. If anybody is actually reading, please enjoy

Would you ever kill? (12)

Ross wasn't really left by himself for three days. The condition of his friends wavered up and down, and he spent his time slowly walking between their two rooms, then sitting, sleeping, watching. Smith seemed to get a little better, or at least that's what anybody he spoke to said.

"He's healing, and we should be able to start waking him up soon." Was what people kept on repeating. They never told Ross when 'soon' was, and it had been days since they started saying it.

Getting information about Trott was proved to be a little more difficult. They put a drain in his head, to try and reduce the swelling, and they had done some operating on his back, put pins in and tried to support it. But other than that, everything was the same. Nothing changed. His hair was half shaved, just round the back and across one of the sides. Nobody said whether it would grow back or not. Nobody seemed to want to think that far ahead.

Ross didn't cry. He had cried before, but after the first day, he didn't cry. There was no point. He couldn't see the point. People and offered him showers, but he couldn't see the point in washing. Nurses came and gave him food, friends came and gave him food, but he couldn't eat much of it. It didn't fill the feeling in his stomach. So what was the point?

Lewis came back a couple of times, so did Kim and Hannah. Turps visited once, but didn't stay long. Nobody stayed long. He didn't want them to stay long, he didn't want to talk to them. He wanted to talk to Trott and Smith.

The hospital was hot, a sweaty hot that clung to his skin, making him sweat buckets. Well he assumed it was that. In reality, nobody that he met was feeling hot and clammy, not one of them seemed to have that hand on their shoulder, gripping like a vice. It was a constant pain, like the one in his arm and his ribs. Ross could get used to it.

It was a mid afternoon by the time something of much note to Ross happened. He was sat with Trott, upon a pile a blankets with the stuffed walrus acting as a headrest for his chin, when the door swung open and a familiar face stood watching them.

"Hi." The thick accent was low, and quiet, in a way that it never was.

Ross turned his head slowly, not even worrying about how unpresentable he was. "Sips? You're still here?"

"Yeah- well I delayed my trip back home, they understand."

"Okay."

"Shit." Sips sighed, brushing a hand over his forehead. "He looks pretty bad."

"Yeah."

"All this, it's all really this bad?" He was nervously standing, usual strong image completely disappeared.

"Yeah. I guess it is." Ross looked down at the seat, turning away from Sips.

"And are you okay?"

He took a few seconds to answer, but then replied with a rather unconvincing. "Yeah. Fine."

"Look, Ross, we need to talk." Ross didn't answer, not even turning as Sips sat down next to him. "I'm so sorry."

"What for?"

"This-" he gave a wide gesture around the room. "And being stupid like that. That bet, it was stupid. I'm meant to be a dad, for god sakes. I'm almost like a dad to you three, or a big brother, at least."

Ross hadn't even thought of that before. Of course he didn't blame Sips, but he could see where he was coming from. Either way, it wasn't going to turn things around. "It's equally my fault as you're anyway. And theirs." He added at the end, though not really wanting to admit it.

"I feel like a killer."

"They're not dead yet." Ross whispered, at a barely audible volume.

"They might as well be, Ross. Look at him."

He didn't turn his head to look round at his friend. "There's no reason that-"

"I'm sorry, look, I'm sorry you're having to go through this. Please get some sleep or something, you'll make yourself ill. I'm going to go see Alex, if that's okay?" Sips blurted out, then stumbled out the door, not looking round at Ross.

"But they're not dead." Ross muttered into his hands.

  
Sips didn't return again. Ross didn't see him leave, but he wasn't bothered to ask. Fuck Sips. In fact, fuck everybody. He didn't need them. What good did they ever do? Why should he sit around, just waiting for other people, why should he have to live with that feeling of nothingness? He jumped up, wanting to kick out. Why did he put himself through this? What had he done to deserve this? He looked downwards, to Trott's face, then realised. Oh. That's why.

He wasn't going to die. Neither was Smith. He couldn't let that happen to them. But the real question in Ross' mind was, could he really stop it? What was he against fate, against what is sure to happen.

He didn't notice the door propped open by a foot, one of the nurses (what was his name?) sticking his head through. He politely asked Ross if he wanted a shower, explaining that he could use one of the spare patient one, and hinting that he would want to look presentable should his friend wake up.

Ross sighed, and agreed. How much harm was it going to do? Just another motion, another thing to keep his mind off the problem in hand, and feeling so alone. He followed the nurse, and didn't speak. He couldn't speak, he couldn't find the energy to say anything. What was the point in asking questions anyway? Nobody ever seemed to know anything new.

The room with the shower was empty, and with a clinical smell like it had just been heavily scrubbed. Ross was handed a towel, and given some of the spare clothes that Hannah had brought in- the nurse obviously recognised that he wasn't going to remember to bring them himself. The man then gave Ross a plastic sheet and some tape, and helped waterproof the pot on his arm. The tape stuck to his skin, pulling the hairs up in a painful manner, but nevertheless he murmured a thank you to the nurse. Then he was left alone. Truly alone, without Trott or Smith or any doctors observing or any friends visiting or machines beeping. Just him, and his mind. He didn't know why it was worse.

He stripped off his clothes and dropped them carelessly on the floor, then stepped into the shower. It hissed and spat a little water, cold, or course, onto Ross, before starting to work properly. The temperature was lukewarm at best, and the flow was weak. Normally he would have complained, but in comparison to everything else, it wasn't that bad. No flow of water was truly going to wash away the pain and the guilt of what he had done.

The towel had been hardened with thorough washing, just like everything else in the hospital. It did its job, no matter how painful it was. Ross' clothes were a lot cooler than the clothes he was wearing previously, and much less sweaty, so after he had navigated his arm through the shirt sleeve, he at least was wearing something more comfortable. That had to help, and it certainly made him feel a little more in control. The moment to himself had had an impact, whether it was good or bad in the long term he didn't know, but at that moment he felt clean from everything that had happened over the last few days.

It could almost have been like nothing had happened. But then he had to go back. He had to face it all again.

Ross grabbed his phone and hoodie from Trott's room, gently kissed his forehead, and walked the short distance to Smith. He was expecting to be alone, seeing as he had only been gone half an hour or so, and was surprised to see Lewis sat on the bedside chair, flicking through some papers.

"Lewis?" He voice croaked a little, taking a second to return to its normal volume. "When did-"

"I was asked to come in. They said you were in the shower so I waited here for you." He explained, and placed the papers down on the bedside table. "How are you?"

"Fine." Both of them knew that in reality he wasn't, but neither could solve his problems, so there wasn't further questioning. "What are the papers?"

"Information about Smith."

Ross frowned. "I haven't seen those."

"No, I was just given them." Lewis looked straight at him, "They're about what happens next."

"What- is that why your here?"

Lewis stood up, walked over to the other side of the room, and pulled out another chair. "Yeah, they need more than one person to- Never Mind, sit down, Ross."

"But-"

"I promise you, it's all good. It's all about getting him better as quickly as possible."

"Okay." He answered cautiously, whilst taking a seat.

"They want to wake him up."

Ross was silent for a moment. "I thought he was in a coma?"

"Yes, but it's medically induced. They kept him in it to stop the injury at the back of his head from developing further and allow him to heal quicker." Lewis explained, practically reciting what he had read in the booklet.

Ross was silent once again, working things out in his mind. "So they've been able to wake him up this whole time?" He was suddenly angry, an emotion he had not truly felt during the whole ordeal.

"Not the whole time, they could have first woken him up two days ago."

"And they didn't." He frowned.

"They're only doing what's best."

Why was keeping Smith away from him the best thing? How could forcing him to sleep be more healing than they would be together?

Lewis didn't add anything to the conversation. Maybe he didn't know what to say, or maybe he didn't want to risk making things worse.

 

Fortunately, the doctor who was leading Smith's treatment knocked on the door seconds later, and entered, pulling out a chair and sitting down, along with another staff member who instead of scrubs wore office-style clothing, although still had a doctors watch and a stethoscope around her neck. She was introduced as the doctors superior, there as a specialist brain consultant, and also took a seat beside the doctor.

"Do you understand why we're all in here, Ross?" The doctor asked, pulling out a pen from his pocket and jotting some notes down on a different information book that was pinned to the edge of the bed.

Ross nodded.

"I explained it all to him." Lewis told them. Everyone seemed to be treating him like a child, which only made him feel more helpless.

"The choice we have is to wake him up now, which will result in a longer overall healing process, but lower risk; or let keep him under for another couple of days, which is a little more risky in terms of after effects, but should it work he will heal quicker and to a greater extent."

"What are the risks?" Lewis asked. Ross was glad he did, he wasn't sure he could have brought himself to do it.

The doctor's supervisor looked solemn. "It's fairly low risk, but there could be varying degrees of brain damage, and in some cases we may not be able to wake him up at all. All in all, we have to think of what's best for Alex, but either way he's going to be in pain, which could be minimised if he remains comatose a while longer."

Weren't they all in pain? Ross couldn't go a second without being reminded how much his friends were hurting, and although he was becoming numb to the pain in his arm and chest, the thought of them hurting made him hurt.

"We do need you to have this decision, Ross. We don't know what will suit Alex best, and we're required to ask over moral decisions. "The doctor explained. "I know this is a lot to put on you, and unless you can provide a relative-"

"I don't have their contacts." He mumbled once again.

"Then it needs to be your choice."

"Can I have a moment to think?" Ross asked, standing up.

The doctor looked to his superior, and she smiled. "Of course. You can't have too long I'm afraid, but we don't want to rush you."

"Yeah. Course." He replied as he waked out the room, not really listening. He didn't want to have to make choices, but he had known that he would have to at some point. Should he let Smith be in pain, or risk him coming back as, well, not Smith? Was it selfish that he wanted Smith to wake up just so he wasn't alone?

 

Ross walked back in to Trott's room, careful not to make too much noise with the door, and sat down on the floor. "Fucking hell Trott." He groaned, "Why is this so difficult?"

"Ross?" Trott's doctor, who he hadn't noticed when he had walked in, asked. "Don't sit on the floor darling, it's not comfy."

"Oh, sorry." He got up, wobbling a little as he pushed himself up with one arm.

"Actually, Ross, maybe we could have a quick word." She frowned. "Take a seat."

He did as he was told, sitting down on the chair and looking up at her, hoping for something good.

"I think you need to be aware of what's going to happen next, and a decision your likely going to have to make in the near future."

"What-" Ross opened his mouth but couldn't speak, feeling the same feeling he had done moments earlier.

"Of course it will not fully be up to you, but you will have the final word. And everything will be done so that whatever decision is made is the one that is best for Chris. We don't want to put him through so much more if it will be just pain without outcome. And that's not just for him, that's for you as well."

"I don't know what you mean." He did know what she meant. He didn't want that to be what she meant, but he knew that it was.

"I think you do." She looked at the monitor. "We've not had a response for over three days now, so his case is going to go to the hospital board."

"But your saying-"

"I'm saying it's almost certain you will be making this decision in the next few days. I know it's a lot to put on your shoulders, but you have said your unable to provide contacts to a relative of his." She put a hand on top of his hand. "You have time to think and talk to people, but in the end it will be up to you."

Ross swallowed nervously, and stated the fact he had been trying to avoid.

"You mean it will be my choice whether he dies? That I've got to kill him again after I got him into this in the first place?"

 

 

 

 


	13. Pieces of Peace

Pieces of peace (13)

Smith was there, so he was okay. There was no pain, or course, in the dream world. Not physically. But Trott was sure he'd go mad if he were by himself. Trott of course didn't know whether Smith was a figment of his imagination- something made up to prove to himself he wasn't dead or because he didn't want to be dead and alone at the same time- but it seemed unlikely. Smith spoke of the outside world, and it seemed too realistic to be made up. He had to be alive, otherwise there would be more. This couldn't be it. And besides, why would he imagine Smith, of all people? He would want to spend eternity with somebody a bit less irritating.

No. Smith wasn't irritating, he regretted even thinking it. Smith was one of his best friends, along with Ross. Spending the rest of time with Alex wouldn't be too bad. And he was okay. He wasn't alone, so he was okay.

It sure was boring, though. Some scenery wouldn't go a miss, disrupt the blockade of white that made up the sky, the ground, and pretty much everything that wasn't Smith or Trott. It was almost too light, and despite the amount of time they had spent there the brightness hadn't changed, still imposing on them from every direction. It was funny at first, how there was a feeling of so much when in reality there was nothing, but eventually the overwhelming feeling was less and it felt like nothing at all.

"Smith?" Trott asked, moving his eyes from the white sky to the man lying stretched out bedside him. "Should we -you know- try and do something? Maybe?" His voice wavered a little at the end.

"What do you suggest mate?" He laughed. "'Cause I don't feel like walking out into the abyss or wherever."

"Waiting isn't getting us anywhere."

Smith winced, and looked the other way, cheeks pressing to the floor. "I don't know."

"Is it hurting again?" Trott asked, raising an eyebrow.

"A bit, don't worry about it." He said, but still winced again after he spoke. "Painkillers must be wearing off."

"It's only been a couple of hours. I would have thought they gave you the strongest stuff."

"Don't think time works in the same way, here, Trotty." He laughed through gritted teeth.

"Alright, no need to sass me, Alex." Trott shifted himself to the side so he was as close to Smith as he could get without touching (well, passing through) him. "They must have given me some fucking strong drugs, I can't feel a thing."

"Yeah." Smith sounded a little worried, Trott decided to ignore.

"I wish I could touch you." He sighed, despairing at the hologram like nature of Smith's form.

"Wish I could touch you too, if you know what I mean." Despite the obvious joke, which had been reused by Smith many a time, there was some sense of seriousness I'm the statement.

"Fuck off Smith." He groaned. "You know what I mean, why did we have to be stuck somewhere so bloody lonely."

"You'd never hold my hand when I offered before."

"Yeah- well. It wasn't quite the same as this."

"Never want it till you've lost it. Classic Trout." Smith started off jokily but his voice quietened at the end and he grabbed his leg subconsciously, pulling a pained expression.

"How is that classic-?" He started, then noticed the look on his friends face. "Are you sure it's only hurting a bit?"

"It hurts like a bitch, Trott." Smith turned his head again, and grinned at Trott. "I'll live with it. It was worse before."

"You're going to leave again."

"What?"

Trott frowned. "Like before, when you couldn't see me."

"Fucking hope not." He chuckled. "That was shit."

"Seriously Alex. Don't go."

"I don't think I've got much choice in the matter." Smith laughed again.

"Smith..."

Trott didn't want him to go, he didn't want him to feel further away than he already was. Not again. It would be nice to know how Ross was once again, and he didn't want to keep Smith against his will, but he couldn't stand to be alone.

"You'll be fine Trott." Smith smiled. "Stop worrying you're not going to be alone."

Maybe he was right, but Trott highly doubted it. If they were alive, they couldn't stay there forever. And judging by how everything else had been going, Smith would probably leave before Trott. He knew he shouldn't think about it, not wanting to be any more stressed than he already was. But it was in his mind- why wouldn't he worry? He was so close to death.

Smith winced again, louder this time, dragging him out of his thought. Without realising it, Trott found himself running his left hand through the auburn fluff of Smiths hair. His fingers passed straight through, of course, but the action felt good. Smith leant his head back and looked at Trott's hand.

"What are you doing?"

"I don't know." Trott pulled his hand away. "You looked in pain, and I've always like it when people stroke my hair."

"Don't stop" He motioned for him to move his hand back.

Trott coughed. "I thought you couldn't feel it?"

"I can't," Smith smiled, "It just feels like we're being more natural."

"Okay." He continued with the motion. It was peaceful, he supposed, when he wasn't thinking about it all going wrong. Whatever pieces of peace he could have, he was willing to take them. He hated the place, but he was content staying there because he was sure things could only get worse. He could only savour Smith whilst he had him, because he was going to leave soon, Trott was sure of it. "Are you hurting more?"

"What do you think Trott? Of course." He snapped, then noticed the tone of his voice. "Sorry I didn't mean to-"

"It's fine. I get it."

"Hey Trott?" Smith muttered, "Keep talking will you?"

"Okay. What about?"

"Anything." He rolled himself over onto his stomach and spread to out his limbs. "Fuck." He groaned under his breath as he moved.

Trott pulled his hand away. "Your making more noise about it than you were before."

"'Cause it's hurting more now, Trott. Can you talk about something different please?"

That was somewhat worrying. Either things were worse on Smith's side, or Smith was becoming more conscious in reality than he was in the world they currently inhabited.

"Alex, what's happening?"

"Just- Chris, please, it hurts."

"Okay. Sorry." He couldn't do much to help physically, but he could try and distract him, and distract himself at the same time. "What about the LARP thing Mark was talking about? We were considering going with him sometime right?"

Smith hummed in response, not moving himself.

"I thought we could be salesmen, right? Then you could make some of that beef jerky you've always wanted to make. But I'm sure Mark will explain it all to us, he knows a lot about it. And we'll have to order some stuff and get costumes made of course."

"We should go to that fantasy shop when we both wake up." Smith mumbled.

"Yeah. When we're both out of this." Although the when felt a little uncertain. It was more of an 'if'. "Do you think we could get Ross to go too?"

"Nah. Can you imagine?"

Trott laughed "He would be so confused. With that dog vision and all, he's not gonna see what's happening around him never understand the lore behind it." He smiled. "Maybe we'll just be a couple then."

"You're such a nerd, Chris." He groaned.

"That's- that's literally our job- you're a nerd too."

"Fair enough."

"Smith?" Trott looked down at his unmoving form. "Can you still see me?"

"Did you think of any names?"

"Don't change the fucking subject. Are you still with me?" He asked, pushing his hand through the projection of Smith's hair.

"I can still hear you, don't worry." Smith sounded sad and somewhat disappointed.

"I thought you said you would stay. You can't leave, please. You have to resist it." His voice cracked a little with worry. He didn't know what to do. Nothing was normal anymore but somehow in the (presumably) short time they had spent in the area this had become his standard.

"I don't think I can, Chris." Smith did move as he spoke, but not in the same way. He was almost robotic in movement, odd and inhuman, just as he had been when he could hear Ross.

"Smith. Alex. Just try." His normally deep voice was higher pitched, breaking, just like his mind was.

"Wait. I can hear somebody.

"What?" Trott didn't wasn't to know, he wanted to be lying next to Smith, pretending to cloud watch again. He didn't want to know about the outside world. He wanted to stay. He wanted Smith. But he wanted Ross too.

What was Ross doing. Trott didn't want to be alone, but Ross had been this whole time? Ross wasn't with them. Trott hadn't thought about it, being so bothered about his own pain, that he hadn't thought about his other friend. He was alone, and left in a difficult situation that they had managed to side step out of. Which situation was worse? Would Smith be more help conscious and with Ross than siting with Trott in a world where nothing ever happened? Ross. Smith. Trott. They were all in this together no matter what, but there was no way they could all be together at the same time. They were going to have to split up.

He came to the sudden realisation that he might have to let Smith go.

"They're talking about me, Trott." Smith explained, and winced again, a spasm moving up his leg in a way that he hadn't seen before.

"What are they saying?"

"Fuck, Chris. I might be able to actually wake up." He sounded a little excited. Of course he wanted to escape it. Had he been pretending to want to stay for Trott's sake? Or had it been the fact he had been given hope.

Trott didn't want Smith to go. He had made that clear. He would lose his mind being alone. But he didn't want Smith to be stuck here and unhappy, and he didn't want Ross to be alone and unhappy. It wasn't his decision to make of course, he was powerless as always, but he knew he would have to deal with it in his mind. He would have to let Smith go in his mind.

He didn't know how to do it. He didn't know how he would be alone. He didn't know how to do it without Smith, how to keep himself sane without wanting him to be there. But he had to. He hated it, he hated that fact, but he knew he would have to. But not this soon. It couldn't be this soon.

"Trott?" Smith asked, and Trott realised he had been silent for a while. "Did you hear me?"

"Oh. Yeah."

"You know what this means?" He explained. "It means things are getting better."

"Alex?" Trott asked.

Smith hummed, "yeah?"

Trott wanted to ask him to stay. He wanted to tell him he couldn't leave. He wanted to explain how he would lose his mind. He wanted to say he was terrified of dying. He wanted to say that he knew things weren't getting better, not for everybody. He couldn't. He couldn't say what he wanted because that would ruin everything. He couldn't stop what was inevitable. He knew that what he wanted to say was selfish and impossible. And he couldn't let Smith's last memory of him be about that.

"Look after Ross, will you? After all this?" Trott cleared his throat. "Don't let him end up in a place like we are now."

In a place that was sure to be the place where he spent the rest of eternity.

 

 

 

 


	14. What I'd do

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Back with another chapter :)

What I'd do (14)

Smith wanted to escape. He knew Trott didn't want him to go- despite the fact he had no choice in the matter, the smaller man was adamant that he remained with him. Even after Smith had told him and there was a long pause of silence, he sounded upset. And he asked Smith to look after Ross, with a voice so timid that it broke his heart.

But he could hear Ross too. Lewis was there, a couple of other people that were presumably hospital staff. Trott had faded away so much that they were now louder than him, and the once bright white was now all black, as if he had his eyes shut. He hadn't missed the feeling- not being able to move or respond to anything that was going on.

From what he had heard, they had given the decision of whether he woke up or not to Ross. A female doctor explained both sides, and Ross was left to choose. Smith was almost glad he didn't have a choice in the matter, because he would never have been able to chose. Had there not been the issue of Trott, it would have been easy. He would never take the risk of further complications and would be happy to go through more pain if only to relive the feeling of uselessness and paralysis. He would want to wake up. But if he had the choice, he wasn't sure whether he would. Not until he knew that Trott was going to be okay. It was good that he didn't have to make that decision because he couldn't have done it. So he could only imagine what Ross was having to do.

Ross, of course, didn't know about anything about Trott's complaints or Smiths discomfort of being trapped in his own body. Hell, he didn't know they could speak to each other. All his decisions had to be based off on what he could see alone, and Smith knew exactly what he was thinking.

Ross would want Smith back. He would want Trott back. Initially he would want him to be awake as soon as he could be. Then he would hear the consequences of that, and disagree with himself, thinking he was being selfish. Thinking he would be putting Smith in pain when that didn't need to happen. That wasn't the reason why Smith would want to stay, but it was the one Ross would be most concerned about. Nevertheless, it wouldn't be an easy decision for him to make.

"Smith?" Trott, even quieter and further away now, asked.

"One second, they're speaking." Trott wasn't really loud enough to cover up what they were saying, but Smith didn't want to have to think about him and outside all at once. It was far too much to comprehend. Trott made a slightly disgruntled sound in response.

"Can I have a moment to think?" Ross asked, sounding nervous.

There was a pause before the woman answered. "Of course. You can't have too long I'm afraid, but we don't want to rush you."

How long did he have? If Ross decided to wake him up he could only have hours before he woke. Before he left Trott, and joined Ross. He wanted to go, he almost couldn't wait, but he didn't want to think of Trott sat in that world of white all by himself.

 

Ross mumbled something, then there was the sound of footsteps and a door swinging open. Lewis spoke again almost immediately after.

"You're putting a lot on him."

Smith chuckled. That much was true.

There was a sigh from the male doctor. "We're aware. To be perfectly honest with you sir, the risk of brain damage isn't the only reason we're considering waking him up this early."

"Oh?" Lewis said in his voice that showed he was pretending to understand what was happening, but in reality had no clue. "What's that?"

"We haven't spoken to Ross about it, but Sam- sorry, Chris' head doctor should be having a word with him soon. Chris' case goes under the board this afternoon. Both me and her will be there, but it seems unlikely that we can keep the life support going." He continued.

Before Smith could think Lewis spoke again. "I thought he was getting better?"

"His back appears to be healing, yes, but we've not got any evidence of increased brain activity. Chris is likely not even there anymore."

Smith wished he could speak right then. More than anything. Trott was there. He had seen Trott, he could hear Trott in his ear. If only he could tell them that they were wrong. Trott was alive, he wasn't brain dead, because his conscience was there. His conscience was with Smith.

Lewis sounded as if he was in denial, not able to be upset over it. "You want to wake him up so he'll be able to say goodbye?"

There was no answer. Smith presumed that meant yes. He didn't to need to wake up to say goodbye, because Trott was with him. He needed to wake up so he could tell them that they couldn't let him die. If he remained asleep then they would just kill him, they wouldn't know. He needed to wake up, no matter how long Trott would be left alone.

"Alex you've been quiet a while."

"Sorry mate, they were just talking about the procedure or something." There was no point in stressing him out, but Trott could probably tell he was lying.

"Really. You okay?" He laughed. It was almost certain that he was aware of the lies, but he didn't question it further.

"Fine." That was a lie too, but a much easier one to hide.

"How's Ross?" Trott asked, seemingly wanting to keep talking.

Smith sighed. He didn't know how Ross was doing but he couldn't imagine it would be good. It was probably going to get much worse as soon as he was told about the other decision he would have to make. The one about Trott's life. He wondered whether that had told Ross yet, after he had left the room. It was likely.

"Chris?" He asked, changing the topic as he was unable to answer the previous question.

"Yeah?" Trott was so unaware of everything. He sounded worried, as always, but he didn't know about anything that had just been discussed. Smith wanted to keep it secret for as long as he could- it was difficult to think of Trott retaining any sense of sanity if he had lost Smith and knew he was about to die at the same time.

"Whatever's going to happen next-"

"Fucking hell Smith, they're waking you up aren't they?" He groaned.

"Yeah something like that." Smith sighed. "Look Trott,"

Trott made a nervous sound, a slightly higher pitched than normal squeak that lasted only milliseconds, but it was there. "What's happened?" His voice was quieter still, a mix between his fear and the fact that Smith was fading away from it all in a quickening pace.

"It's not important. Things are going to happen, Trott. They always were. We've been trying to pretend that we can stop it. I can't, Trott. I've got no control over what happens next."

"I just don't want-"

"Nobody wants to be alone Trott." Smith felt bad about it. He would, should everything go as he presumed it would, be the only one that didn't have to be alone. "Chris?"

Trott hummed in response. "You sound too serious. What have they said?"

"Whatever happens," Smith continued without answering him, "I love you."

"What?"

"I just thought you should know. I didn't want anything to happen and you not know it. You know?"

"Okay. I love you too, I guess?" Trott sounded terrified, maybe he knew from Smiths tone of voice that something was up, more than it was before. "Why- what's making you say this?"

Smith didn't answer. It certainly wasn't like him to be 'soppy' like this, and he would have laughed at anyone who talked like that usually. He had an appearance to keep up, after all. That appearance didn't need to happen now. He didn't need to be the asshole anymore, and he didn't need to tease Trott. Nobody was watching. And why did it matter anyway? He could be losing him any second, why wouldn't he be heartfelt. Minus his work and hobbies, Trott and Ross were his everything. And he hadn't admitted that to anybody before, not even himself. Why was it only now, when the life they had built together was under threat, that he realised it?

"Smith? You're not gone are you? I can still see you?"

There was the sound of the door opening once again.

"No, I'm here still." Smith answered, listening to what was going on outside of his mind with more precision once again. "I think Ross is back, gimme a second."

 

  
Smith felt a hand run through his hair, then grab his hand. It was a comforting feel, and somehow helped to mask the feeling of pain in his body.

"You made a decision sweetheart?" Asked the female doctor. They hadn't given him much time to choose.

Ross sounded choked, like he had been (or still was) crying. "Yeah. I spoke to- yeah."

"You understand why we had to push this decision now?"

"Yeah, I do." He sniffed, and gripped onto Smith's hand a little tighter.

"What's your answer?"

"Yes. Wake him up. Sorry Smith."

"Okay." The male doctor was still as serious as ever, but sounded somewhat relieved. It was obviously the decision they thought was the best one. "We'll just need you to sign on here to confirm this was your decision, just for legal matters."

"This is the right thing to do, isn't it?"

Smith understood the decision. In most ways, he agreed with the decision. It would have been the one he he made, had he been in the same situation. He wanted to wake up, he hated being stuck like this. But the thought of leaving Trott, probably for ever, (unless he could manage to convince everyone that Trott was not brain dead) made him wish he could stay, just a while longer.

"I'm going, Trott." He whispered.

"Oh." Trott paused for a while. "How long?"

"I don't know."

  
"Okay Alex," explained the male doctor. "We've begun to reduce your anaesthetic, as I'm sure you can tell."

"Can he hear you?" Ross asked.

The doctor chuckled. "We think he should be pretty aware of what's going on by now."

That was true. Smith could feel everything much more than he could before, even though it was still dark in his mind.

"So over the next few hours you should begin to come around fully." He explained. Smith felt one of the lines in his arm being moved, and another flow of liquid enter his veins.

"Ross, we don't know how this is going to go." The female doctor was keeping her voice low, trying to stop Smith from hearing. It didn't work, he could hear every word she said. "This will likely be distressing. And I don't want you to worry. If at any point you need to go, either of you, then we've got this. You don't need to worry." She paused for a moment, and there was a sound of paper being flicked. "Doctor Tether, can you call in a nurse?"

"Okay." Ross sounded confused, but it never was his style to ask further questions. He ran his hand through Smith's hair once again. "Not much longer now."

  
"Smith. You've been really quiet." Trott whimpered. He knew what was going on.

"Just listening."

"Don't worry mate this is all going to be okay." Ross whispered.

"Smith? Is everything okay?"

"I-" he didn't know what to answer.

"Do you know how much longer you've got with me yet?"

"You'll be out of this all soon."

Smith swallowed hard. "I don't know. Not long." Both Trott and Ross talking at the same time was difficult for him to understand, and not a problem he dealt with often. Ross was the quiet one, usually, and it would be Trott and Smith competing over each other to talk. How ironic, that it was Ross left doing all he talking, and Smith and Trott both stuck unable to speak.

"We can get through this, Smith."

"What do I do, Smith?"

"Fuck, Trott. I don't know."

"You're starting to fade." Trott stated. "Fucking hell Alex. You're going see through." In the same way, Trott's voice was almost transparent. It was so soft. So 'not there'.

"I'm going to make this all right. Stay put Trott. "

"Smith please don't-"

Then he couldn't hear Trott anymore. He felt bile rising in the back of his throat, and without realising it Smith was pulled out of the darkness and was lying down in a painfully bright hospital room.

 

 


	15. They're for real

They're for real (15)

Ross pulled his hand away from Smith's hair as the taller man began to lurch forward making a choking sound. It was a shock to see him move, it almost seemed unreal. The last time he had seen him move was when he was competing for the driving seat with Trott. And he didn't particularly want to think about that moment again.

He was quickly ushered away by the two doctors and left standing at the side, watching. Lewis put a hand on his shoulder, but he brushed it off. Ross stared as the two doctors and a nurse who had just entered turned Smith onto his side and held a cardboard bowl under his mouth. Ross kept watching as he vomited whatever contents of his stomach that he had left into the bowl, then was rolled back over onto his back.

His face was paler than usual, but no paler than it was before. The choking sound subsided, and Smith went still again. Ross stayed watching. Not moving. He couldn't bring himself to move. It had to be the right decision, he knew that. But something deep in his heart told him that it was wrong. He couldn't be sure what it was, and it was illogical, because from everything he'd been told it was the right decision. But there was doubt, and he didn't know where it came from.

Everything had been thrown on him so quickly. Only an hour or so earlier Ross was still sat with nobody able to tell him anything more about anything. How had they kept this all from him? Couldn't somebody have at least mentioned to him that such a bombshell would be dropped? Because he was feeling faint with the speed everything had happened at.

"What's happening?" Ross mumbled. At least he should be able to know what was going on in the present, even if nobody could explain the future.

"Don't worry Ross, we'll explain everything." Spoke the one of the doctors, whilst the other clicked a tiny torch and shone it into both of Smith's eyes individually. The nurse took a white wipe, and ran it around Alex's mouth. It wasn't much of a reassurance to Ross, being told he would be told what was happening later on, because all he wanted to know was what was happening at that very moment. It was no use knowing about the past- he couldn't change it, only worry that what he had done was wrong.

  
"Ross. We can leave for a bit if you like." Lewis mumbled from behind him.

He didn't turn around to speak to him. "No. Thank you."

"I think- I'm going to wait outside."

"Okay." It was understandable. No part of him wanted to leave Smith, but that wasn't to say that watching this wasn't traumatic. Or maybe Lewis just wanted to give him space. It could be either. Ross didn't care anyway, it wasn't important to him.

  
The sheet that covered most of Smith's torso was pulled back to reveal his bare chest. The iv line going into the back of his hand was adjusted, and the woman began to speak directly to him. "Hello Alex. Can you try and move your hand for me?"

"Ross, come over here." The other doctor ordered, although speaking softly. Ross did as he was told. "Here. Take his hand."

He took Smith's right hand in his own, clutching it gently as he had done in the many hours spent sat by his bedside. Smith's hands were clean, and his nails had been trimmed so they were neat. Somebody must have cleaned his hands for him, because Ross' in contrast looked grubby, with bits of dirt underneath jagged bitten nails. His other hand- the one in the cast- must have looked even dirtier. Anyway, it was a good job someone was looking after Smith. By the looks of things, that job would fall to Ross in the near future, should everything keep improving as it had been. Well- improving for Smith. There hadn't been much improvement when it came to Trott. But he didn't need to think about Trott at that moment.

"See, Ross is right here. Say something Ross."

He didn't know what to say. What do you say? He had been speaking to both Smith and Trott the whole time, but he hadn't had a response. He wasn't expecting one anyway.

"Ross?"

"Oh. Sorry. Hey mate, almost up now, right?" He spoke as if he was speaking directly to him.

There was another adjustment of the line in Smith's arm, then another question. "Can you try and move your hand again, Alex?"

After a moment with no change, there was a third and final adjustment. "One more time Alex, let's get this done as simply as we can." There was an increasing tone of concern in his voice.

Ross' fear only increased when he recognised that tone of voice. If something went wrong here, he would likely be left alone. Forever. He suddenly wished he had taken up Lewis' offer and followed him outside. Waited for it all to be over. Not get involved. He pulled his hand away, trying to take a step back. But he couldn't. His hand was being gripped. Not tightly, but there was resistance.

Smith was holding his hand back.

Smith moved.

Everything was overwhelming once again. The doctors both spoke at once, one two him and one to Smith. Ross didn't hear what either of them said. He was getting Smith back, it was happening. And although this was a good thing- it had to be a good thing- he hated the feeling of it. The feeling that everything was going to hit him, like a tidal wave, all of a sudden. Smith would wake up, and the period of time where nothing seemed to happen, the unreal, everlasting section where he didn't know what was happening and he hated it, but it was stable. He was starting to regret the decision he made more and more by the second. The panic of it. The reality of everything coming together, and reaching its painful conclusion.

"One second." Ross mumbled. He wasn't sure if anyone could even understand him, but he needed a second to bring himself together. To work out what he was going to do, because he couldn't take the responsibility of doing it by himself. They worked as a three, they were best as one mind. A man cannot deal with pressure like this. Sadness and hope and fear and joy, all condensed into one. Events changing like the wind in a confusing and overwhelming way.

The feeling of slamming a door open is a calming one. By that point, Ross had had a lot of experience with the hospital doors. They were light enough to push with a good swing, and didn't close quickly but made a satisfying sound. In truth, Ross knew he was concentrating on the sound of the door to distract himself from what was really happening.

"Everything alright mate?"

Lewis was still outside. There was no escaping it, he had to go back. There was no point putting off what he knew was happening out of his control. He took a deep breath in, and looked Lewis straight in the eye. "Yeah. Fine." Then span around on his heels and slowly pushed the door to that god forsaken room open.

  
There had been barely any change, which was unsurprising, because he hasn't left for long. Ross got a funny but sympathetic look from one of the nurses, however other than that his return was barely acknowledged. It would be okay. Nobody looked worried anymore, not as they had done before.

This was real. This was happening, and it was okay. He didn't need to panic and run away, because everything that was taking place was good.

"Come and take his hand again." The nurse suggested, stepping out the way to give Ross space.

Ross shuffled over, and before he could clutch Smith's hand, the mans fingers were wrapping around his own, and squeezing much tighter than they were before. Ross began to draw tiny circles on his knuckles with his thumb, comforting swirls onto his skin. It was almost as if they were alone, in peace together. Some more words were said, but once again he wasn't listening. His eyes moved from his hands to Alex's face, and settled there, just watching. Smith's mouth twitched a little at the corners, until it was recognisable as a smile, slowly but surely, two eyes opened a fraction, so that sore looking blue eyes were just about visible underneath the slits, looking back at him with a pained, worried expression.

"Smith- Alex?"

He couldn't pull his hand away now. He couldn't pull away again.

"There we go." One of the doctors said from behind Ross. "Exactly what we're looking for. You've been out a while." He must have been talking directly to Smith.

Ross squeezed his hand again. "Are you in pain?" He muttered. Probably much too quiet, but he was heard nevertheless.

"It might take him a while to speak." A hand was placed on his shoulder whilst the other doctor spoke to him. "But, we can give him some more pain killers, and then we'll leave you two alone for a little while whilst we go have some discussions outside."

Ross turned around and smiled at her, whilst subtlety nudging her hand off his shoulder. "Okay. Thank you."

  
His eyes went back to watching Smith. The oxygen mask had been removed a few days ago in favour of a clear pure that ran under his nose and into his nostrils. It was non intrusive, which was nice to see in comparison to the plastic tube that was taped to his cheek and inserted down his throat. His skin was bruised, particularly on the right side, where the edge of a sheet of cotton wool was visible. Ross had been told that that was where much of the blood on the scene of the accident had come from- the wound on the back of Alex's head.

Smiths eyes darted from side to side. Other than that, and the occasional movement of his hand on Ross', he was perfectly stationary. Things happened around him- drips being adjusted or heart rate and such being recorded- and his gaze glanced over each of those for a second, then settled on Ross. The dark haired man smiled down at him in a reassuring manner, not sure how well he was portraying that because he didn't feel reassured himself.

"It's good to have you back." He whispered, and placed his forehead down so that it touched straight against Smith's. His head was slightly hot to the touch, sticky with sweat. Ross whispered once again, even more quietly so that only Alex could hear, "We fucked up Smith. We really fucked up."

  
"You okay?" Ross was interrupted.

"Yeah, sorry."

One of the doctors and the nurse exited the room whilst the other spoke to him. "We'll be just outside, should you need any thing, or if anything happens, you need to let one of us know. Okay?"

"Yes."

 

It was the first time in four days that Ross had been left alone with Smith, and not felt as if he were by himself. Even though Alex did not make a sound, by simply having his eyes open he became a person instead of a body lying in a bed. He seemed to be trying to open his mouth and say something, but was not managing to prise his lips apart. He looked weak and scared, it was unusual to see him like that.

"You're not gonna be able to speak mate, there's a tube down your throat." Ross laughed, even though it was not a subject that was amusing in any way.

Presumably, the little bit of humour was appreciated, because Smiths mouth twitched in a smile like way once again.

"Almost four days mate, you didn't half take your time." It had felt like longer than that to Ross, but Alex looked surprised by it. It was still a long time, medically speaking, to keep somebody comatose. "It doesn't matter anyway. I'm guessing you don't want me to go on about injuries and all that- other people know a lot more." He knew a lot himself, seeing as it had been one of the very few things he had obsessed over in the past few days, but it wasn't his job to tell.

It was difficult for Ross to find anything to speak about. Other than the accident, but that was a sore subject- both literally and metaphorically.

"Trott's in the room next door."

The smile on Smith's face faded.

"He's- well- I'll let a doctor talk to you about that too." Ross squeezed his hand tight. "Lewis is here too. And Kim's been and gone a couple of time. Some others too- people are really fucking concerned about us."

He looked down at the rest of Smith's body, still lying there, uselessly stationary.

"I missed you, you twat." He whispered, and leaned his head down onto the bed beside Smith, so that the tufts of his hair brushed against skin. He shut his eyes, and remained there, listening to him breathe. Knowing that he had been right in his decision to wake him up, but not yet free of the everlasting fear of the future that hung over him.

 

"Alex? Ross? Mind if I come in?"

Ross lifted his head up sharply. His lack of response seemed to translate as 'it's fine' to the doctor, who entered anyway.

"I'm going to have to ask you to leave again, I'm afraid Ross. We might be a while, so if you could go with your friend-"

"Okay." He stood up, and had to make an effort to prise Smith's fingers off his own. "What- what are you going to do?"

"Nothing you need to worry about." The doctor smiled, and ushered Ross out the room. Whatever it was, he was in a rush to do it.

 

As the door shut behind Ross, the nurse entered, and the vague sound of people talking could be heard, but not understood. He was left alone for a second, until he noticed Lewis staring at him.

"Is everything okay?" He asked, looking concerned.

Ross sighed, and wiped his face with the back of his palm. "Yeah. Fine. We should go sit with Trott."

"Well done mate, this stuff isn't easy." Lewis smiled awkwardly, acting like the father figure he was, "You're doing good."

Maybe he was. It was the right decision- Smith didn't look too bad, and he seemed happy enough to be back. Ross was happy that he was back. Trott would be happy to see Smith getting better. So it was the right decision. This was hard, but in reality it was only a practice, there were much more difficult things to come.

 

 

 


	16. Help me

Help me (16)

Trott couldn't move. From the movement Smith faded from existence he was stuck there, not even letting a breath escape from his lips.

Waiting.

Waiting for him to come back.

Smith had to come back. He had just faded- right? Like he had before, except he had gone further this time and disappeared completely, leaving Trott alone, just like he was alone when he first entered the world of nothingness. So he would come back. It was the same as before.

Trott held his breath in wait for what felt like hours.

Smith still didn't return.

Maybe he was there, but Trott couldn't see him. Maybe Smith was watching Trott, laughing at his still position and worried expression. He couldn't just be gone, it was unrealistic. Stupid, almost, that he would be stuck in a dream world by himself.

He shut his eyes tight, and waited further. Smith would be back when he opened them.

He was coming back.

He didn't come back.

Trott knew Smith didn't have a choice, he knew that. But he couldn't help but feel betrayed, as if Smith could have just tried a bit harder to not leave him by himself. Alex was back in the real world, with Ross, and probably happy about it. This wasn't his problem anymore, and he could leave it all behind.

It wasn't fair that he would be left alone.

  
He opened his eyes again.

He was still there.

He was still alone.

Smith was still gone.

Trott basically collapsed onto the ground, pushing his head down against the floor with his forearms. Wishing and willing for it all to go away. He might have screamed, but he couldn't tell through the ringing feeling in his ears, and it wasn't as if anyone could hear it anyway.

He wanted it to stop.

He wanted it all to stop.

The world- as large as it was- only became more intimidating and intruding, insensitive to everything he was feeling. It wasn't Alex. He was alone, and had to admit it, but hated it. The feeling of endlessness, this being his forever.

He wanted it to end. He didn't care anymore. Ideally, he wanted to be back with Smith and Ross, but as time went on it seemed increasingly and increasingly unlikely. The only other option was to move on. To whatever came next. It had to be better than this.

He was helpless. But nothing happened.

 

  
Smith felt alone. He was there, he was awake. He had never prised himself as being a selfless person, but still had that feeling of guilt, and worry about Trott. Those thoughts were quickly moved to the back of his mind, as the world began to make it difficult for him to concentrate. The pain that never ended only worsened as time went on. He couldn't move more than a twitch of his finger tips, and he still couldn't improve on it. Ross had disappeared out the room and he was left with the doctor, a stranger, with no way of introducing himself. He was like a child, needing to be cared for in every way.

The world was louder than he remembered it. Scarily loud, the sound of his own heart beating in his chest made his ears hurt, the very same pulsation causing pain at the back of his skull. There was a tube down his throat, which only increased the urge for him to vomit again, and dug into his flesh in a inescapable way. The pressure of the sheet over his leg was too much, the words being spoken to him were too much, the machines around him- whining incessantly- were too much. The real world was all too much.

Alex barely got a warning before his head was held back against the bed, and the tape sticking what was presumably the tube to his face was peeled off. More words were spoken to him, but he couldn't hear over the rest of the noise, then the pipe was slowly pulled out. Part of him wished they would just do it quickly, get it over and done with. The feeling of the plastic, as smooth as it was, rubbing against his oesophagus was uncomfortable, and he almost immediately began to gag, unable to control himself.

Whatever the tube was feeding him, Smith was glad he didn't have to taste it on its way down, because is certainly tasted bad when he emptied what little remained in his stomach into another cardboard bowl held by the nurse. Another feeling, another sensation to add to the others. The bile burning the back of his throat once again, he was desperate to wash it away with water was but unable to ask.

Fortunately, before he had even begun throwing up, the foreign utensil had left his body, and it was a welcome relief, if only for a few seconds. Then things which had previously gone unnoticed were also there, creating sensations that alone would be uncomfortable, but together were unbearable. The smell of bleach and vomit. The slow input of air into his nostrils, unnaturally pure. The needle in his wrist. The plastic stickers on his chest. The hospital gown he was wearing, harsh and artificial. The pain only getting worse, less stinging and more stabbing into his flesh, making not only his leg ache, but his whole body.

Smith wanted it to stop. It was better before, when he was with Trott. He wanted to go back, wanted to remove the horrors that reality was bringing from his life. Back to the world where nothing hurt but the mind, because nothing was as disturbing as life hitting him all at once. Consciousness dropped on his still body like a bomb.

He needed it to stop. He needed it all to stop.

He wanted to go back, if only to stop the sound. To stop the feeling. To stop the smell. The light. The confusion. How could he make it stop?

Opening his mouth to see if it would make a sound, Alex was left gulping for air, unable to do anything. His hands twitched without warning, out of his control. His leg did the same milliseconds after. Spasms hitting his body, pulling him through agony then back out again, leaving him defenceless on the other side, then repeating the whole process again. And again. And again. He wanted to scream but couldn't. His body wouldn't let him. He was out of control. Everything was happening, he just wished the world would go quiet, leave him alone. But it couldn't, he had to face it. Smith knew that this was his next battle, but he didn't have a say in how it went. He couldn't control himself, not one bit. If only he had a second to stop and get himself together.

He was helpless. But everything kept happening.

 

Ross sat on the floor. Was he meant to feel happy? Was it wrong that he did, for the first time in days? Smith seemed okay. He didn't look as if he was in too much pain. Not that Ross was particularly good at judging. Trott was the same. He wasn't even visible from the angle Ross was sat at. But nothing would have changed. Things were only going to stay the same, or get worse. He wished somebody would have some hope. They didn't.

Lewis was probably standing right behind him. The older man was silent and stationary, presumably watching over Ross incase he did something 'stupid'. It wasn't like he had heard it stated explicitly, but all his friends were treating him differently. Like he was broken. When in reality, he was the only one that wasn't broken. Maybe people would understand that once Smith had woken up properly.

Ross looked at the floor, mainly. It was white with splotches of dark grey, perfect but freckled with impurities. It was not even, but it was calm. It was the same, wherever he looked. It knew where it was going. Ross wish he knew where he was going. He wanted the stability that he didn't have anymore. He wanted things to be normal. Yet things were never going to be normal again.

His heart was beating at the speed of sound, it had been for days. His hands (well, the hand that was currently not incapacitated by a pot) would shiver if he ever tried to hold something. His emotions ranged from upset to anxiety to nothingness. There wasn't anything else. There hadn't been anything else. Not until Smith was woken up. Then he felt happy.

Under it all, there was a feeling of happiness. Of hope.

Then he turned and saw Trott's face.

And it all came crashing down again.

Emotions like a roller coaster. Ross would think of Smith, the love of having him back, finally. Then he would think of Trott. Barely hanging onto life. Back to Smith, his eyes opening just slightly, finally letting out that hint of blue. Trott, stuck like that. Alone.

How was he to help himself? He couldn't help Smith until he had saved Trott.

He wanted everything to go back to how it was. He wanted things to be normal, to go back to making videos like they had done for years. But Ross couldn't make that happen. He couldn't do it. He couldn't make that happen.

He was helpless. But nothing would ever be the same.

 

  
Trott shut his eyes again. He opened his eyes again. As if something was going to change. Why did he have to be alone? He needed somebody there with him.

"Help me." He muttered down at the ground, to somebody that wasn't there to listen. "Please."

But there was no answer. Nothing happened.

 


	17. You Ignored Them Still

You ignored them still (17)

 

"Ross?"

He didn't turn around.

"Can you hear me? They said we could go back in now?"

Ross looked over his shoulder. Lewis stood in the doorway, looking upset, but not impatient as he would have been in other circumstances.

"Sorry." He mumbled in return. "Yeah."

He pushed himself up with palms flat on the floor, and walked over to Lewis. The smaller man had to reach upwards to pat him on the shoulder, even despite the fact that Ross was slouching heavily.

"Don't look so down. Things are only getting better." He spoke in a fatherly way.

Ross nodded. "Yeah." Well, for Smith at least. He gave one last glance down at Trott as he left the room.

 

  
"Sips called me a couple of hours ago."

Ross wasn't really interested. He knew Lewis was going to keep talking any way, but it still felt- at least to him- like Sips was partially at fault.

"He says he's going to let you use his g-mod videos to put on your channel. Whilst we get everything sorted."

Those g-mod videos were the last thing they recorded. They could be the last thing they ever recorded with all three of them together. He knew that he would have to make a video explaining what had happened at some point, but hadn't even considered that the videos left on their schedule might be running out. What would he make a video about? How could he ever explain to people what had happened. Ross didn't answer, but smiled to Lewis once again as he walked into Smith's room.

  
"You doing okay Ross?" One of the nurses smiled. He was starting to remember faces, but not names. This was the same nurse who had taken him to the shower earlier on. 

Ross stood in the doorway. "Okay. Yeah. How's-"

"R-Ross?"

 

  
The room fell into silence.

"Alex?" He answered.

 

There was another period of silence.

The doctor who stood silently in the corner finally spoke up. "Thats good, Alex. Can you keep trying to speak for us?"

"No- No. Ross." He croaked. Ross couldn't even see his face from where he stood, but he was definitely struggling.

"Ross is right here."

Smith grunted a little, sounding pissed off. Whether it be at his lack of ability at speaking, or something else. "Just R-Ross."

"I understand that you might want to speak to Ross, but if we could try and have a little chat-" The doctor sighed as he was interrupted.

"Ross." He cleared his throat. "First."

"I could come and get you if anything happens? If you give us a few minutes?" Ross didn't know what Smith wanted, but he seemed determined to have a private conversation. He wasn't going to go against Smith's first wish when he woke up.

The doctor seemed to think for a moment. "Okay. As long as you're okay with it Ross." He still didn't seem sure, but must have been willing to let this one slide. Maybe he could hear the determination in Smith's voice too.

"Thank you." Ross smiled, trying his hardest to make it look genuine. Everybody quickly vacated the room, with the exception of Smith and Ross.

 

 

"Alright mate. What's so important that needs saying?" He shuffled over towards the bed so he could see Smith's face. The tube was gone from the side of his cheek and his mouth, but the one under his nose was still there. He was frowning slightly.

"Chris."

Ross drew in a long breath. This was certainly going to be a difficult conversation.

"Smith- I'm not sure this is the best time to talk about this." He must have been able to hear some of the conversations whilst he was unconscious.

"Don't- don't let them." Alex struggled with every word he said, the sound of his voice was unnatural, almost robotic. Ross gave him time to speak. "Can't let them kill- kill him."

"I don't know what else we can do." Ross was still hopeful, of course. But he didn't want to hurt Smith any further. "He's not- he's not there any more."

It took some courage admitting it. But it had been over four days and not a single improvement. From what everyone had told him, that wasn't Trott lying there in that bed. He just could never bring himself to letting him go.

"Fuuck." Smith groaned. "He's not. He's not gone."

"It's not easy to admit. But there's been nothing. It was a bad crash. It was a really bad crash. I know- you know that."

"No. Fuck. Fucking listen. He's still here. I've seen him."

Ross audibly sighed, this was only going to make things even more difficult. It hadn't even occurred to him that Smith might be a more than a little confused after his head injury,

"Urgh." His leg gave a little twitch and he winced. "Alive. Ross. He is."

"Alex, don't. You've hurt your head, what you've seen isn't real." Ross couldn't let him get upset. He couldn't let things get worse. He thought that Smith waking up would make things better, but was regretting the decision of speeding up the process. His brain obviously needed more time to heal.

"I'm- I'm Alexander Lewis Smith. Twenty-seven. You are Ross- Ross Stewart Hornby. Our friend is Chris-Christopher Trott. We crashed your fucking- fucking car. I have been in a coma. Chris is not awake. But alive." It took him a while to say it all, and Ross felt his eyes brimming with tears, but held them back. How was he going to convince him otherwise. How was he supposed to not believe what he was saying, when he wanted to believe it so much. It was the first proper but if hope he had had about Trott in the last few days.

"I'm so sorry Alex."

"I can't let them kill him. 'Cause I know. He's alive Ross. Don't ignore me- what I'm saying."

Ross slumped himself down onto the bedside chair, and leaned his face in his palms, no longer looking at Smith.

"I can't without him. Can't keep going. It was- it was- hard enough without you. You weren't there."

"I wasn't where, Alex?" He spoke, but didn't lift up his head.

Smith cleared his throat. "There. Where we were, we were there together. He was there. Alive."

"I can't do it without him either. But I can't believe you if you're wrong and all we're doing is making him suffer." He didn't want Trott to suffer. He didn't want Smith to suffer with the consequences if he was wrong.

"Trust me." The man attempted to reach an arm out towards Ross, but failed. "Even if- if you never again. Trust me."

 

 

Ross picked up Smiths hand and held it tight. "It's good to have you back."

"Don't- don't change the subject. Trust me?"

"Okay. I won't let them remove the life support. Not until your sure. I promise." He smiled, looking down at his friend.

 

"Thank you. I'm sorry- really hurts." Smith shut his eyes for a second. Ross' heart skipped a beat, but thankfully they opened and Alex was soon staring right back at him again.

"Have you said all you wanted to?"

Smith didn't answer. He started to breathe a little quicker, almost gasping for air.

Ross jumped up. "Bloody hell mate, this is why you needed to check with the doctor first." He ran in what was some sort of skip towards the door and opened it, sticking his head out and calling for help. Although he was a little angry at Smith for having little concern about his own health, it only cemented the fact that he really cared, he knew he needed to save his Trott. Speaking through the pain to Ross, the only person who would ever believe him fully.

But, once again, Ross was left standing, waiting in the corridor, whilst his friend was in agony.

 

 

 

 


	18. Harder to say

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yo yo yo yo yo yo what time is is???
> 
> New chapter time! 
> 
> Lmao no it's 2 in the morning and I've got triple maths in the morning so I'm going a little insane :) Enjoy this chapter anyway

Harder to say (18)

The doctor was displeased with Smith, to say the least. It wasn't that he said anything specifically, but he sighed after the mask was placed over Smiths face and the raspy breathing began to die down. He then muttered something under his breath, barely audible, about what happens when they don't follow procedure.

Smith didn't feel guilty. He needed to talk to Ross there and then. Hopefully the idea had got across fully. Because it was important that he understood. It was the most important thing that Ross knew what was really going on.

"It's going to be a little harder now, but I'd like to have our conversation now, if that's okay." Maybe the doctor wasn't angry. He didn't sound too angry as he spoke.

Smith nodded slowly in response.

"Try to speak as little as you can. We'd rather keep you on oxygen whilst you still seem to be having a few breathing issues, although your blood pressure has gone back to normal pretty quickly, so we're not too worried." He sat down on the seat beside the bed. "We're keeping a watch on it, so if you feel that breathless feeling happening again, please let me know."

Smith nodded again. Part of him wanted the doctor to stop talking, and leave the room quieter again. But he knew it was important. He had to go through with the discomfort

"So, I'd like to go through your injures, and check how much you remember. It that okay?"

"Yeah." He choked, muffled through the oxygen mask.

In the doctors hand there was a pad of paper on a clipboard. "You were involved in a motor collision, traveling at 30 miles per hour, when you were hit by another vehicle traveling at 70. You were in the passenger seat, without a seat belt. Does this all sound familiar?"

"I can't- I can't remember past- can't remember the crash properly." It was difficult to speak with the mask on. Nobody took it off for him though. "The other driver- is?"

"Has minor injuries, and the police have already spoken to him. They'll want to speak to you too, and your friends. They haven't spoken to Ross yet, we convinced them to wait until you woke up."

"Thank you."

"Both you and Chris were unconscious at the scene. Your leg was trapped within the structure of the car- and with us being unable to move Chris quickly without causing further damage, you were trapped for quite some time. The pressure did keep internal bleeding to a minimum, but a blood transfusion was required. The fracture to your leg was compounded, so in surgery eight separate metal pins were inserted to keep the bone in place. They will stay for the rest of your life, so long as there's no complications. The external cage system, however, will only need to remain for a month or two."

So that explained the pain in his leg. He could tell it was broken, but what the doctor was saying sounded serious. He didn't particularly want to have metal pins in his leg for the rest of his life.

"There is a laceration to the back of your head. It required fifteen stitches, and caused a small amount of swelling to the brain- hence why we placed you in the coma. The swelling seems to have had little adverse affects, fortunately. The brain scan showed no bleed, but, again, we are going to keep an eye on it."

Smith slowly turned his head. "Why- why can't I speak- speak properly yet?"

"It should come back in time. But, it is important you know about the medication your on. I'm assuming your feeling a little nauseous right now, maybe with a little bit of a headache, not just around the back of your head."

He nodded.

"In reality, we should have left you comatose for a few more days, to help ward off these affects. However, between me, my superior, and your friend, we made the decision to wake you up as early as we could."

"Because- because of Chris?"

The doctor sighed, and placed the clipboard on his lap. "Partially, yes. Leaving someone unconscious always has its risks too, but mainly we believed it would be unfair on you to not be here to- well-"

He removed his oxygen mask, struggling to bend his elbow and loosen the elastic, but managing it eventually. What he had to say needed to be head. "You're not kill- killing him."

"Okay, well we can discuss that later."

"No. Not- killing-"

"It wouldn't be killing him. It's best we don't talk about this at this moment."

It was exactly as Smith had predicted it. What he had experienced was not 'medically possible'. And should he tell the truth, he was likely to just be searched for a problem with his head. He grunted, and shut up.

"If we return back to your injuries- you might notice the brushing down your left side, particularly your shoulder. Part of the windshield cut into your right arm, but it didn't require stitches. It's still going to require care. Everything is going to require care. You are going to need care. This isn't something your going to do alone."

He didn't give a shit. If there was a little less care, and everyone (barring Ross) and everything would just be quiet for a while, he might be a little more comfortable. He didn't want to think about a recovery process, not until Trott was better. Because he was going to get better.

"Is that all- what-"

The man stood up. "We will need to run some tests. But I understand that I've given you a lot of information. If you need some time-"

"Please."

"You'll need somebody with you at all times, so either I can stay, or a nurse, or-"

"Ross."

The doctor sighed. "How did I know you'd say that? I'll go find him."

 

Smith closed his eyes, and waited. He scrunched his fingers up, and curled them slowly back again. The same with his right toes. He found he could shake his shoulders from side to side with little pain, but other than that movement was limited. It was an improvement, at least.

His mind wondered back to Trott. Was he still there, in that blank world of white by himself? Was he all alone, despite the fact he was in the room next door? He must have been experiencing the quite that Smith craved. A silence that just hours earlier Smith himself had been sick of.

"Alright Smith? How's it going?"

Ross hadn't taken long to get into the room. Thank god, he thought. He wanted to be by himself yes, but more than that he wanted to be by himself with Ross.

"Fucking fan-fantastic mate." He couldn't speak properly yet, but that didn't stop the sarcasm. "How are you?"

"Not like you to care about what others feel." He joked. "Nah- I'm doing fine."

He was lying.

"They put- put a cage on my leg?"

"Yeah. You broke it quite badly."

"Can I look?" He pulled the most puppy-dog face he could manage with his lack of muscle movement.

Ross turned a little pale. It suddenly occurred to Smith that Ross hadn't seen it yet either. Or didn't want to see it again, if he had. "Are you sure you want to?"

Smith knew he wanted to, it was Ross that didn't. Trott was the one with the weak stomach, the one who couldn't watch a video of someone falling off a trampoline without getting upset, and had a very low pain threshold. Ross was worse with blood however. Smith didn't know how he would help his friend if he happened to faint (not that it had happened before, but he couldn't guarantee that it wouldn't this time. Things weren't exactly normal.)

"No."

He'd just look later.

"They're giving you some good pain killers, eh?"

Part of Smith hoped they hadn't yet. Because if this was pain with painkillers, he didn't want to experience it without. "Oh."

What else was he meant to say? Really, he would like some more pain killers, but he imagined it would be difficult, especially if it was morphine he was being given. Grit his teeth and deal with it. It was the best way to get through it.

"I'm sorry Alex."

"Why do you- stop apologising." Ross was different. Ross didn't cry, not so much that there would be tear stains on his cheeks. He certainly didn't apologise all the time. Did he think this was his fault?

Well, it was his fault. Partially. There were many people to blame. The other driver. Ross, himself, hell- even Sips was at fault. And Trott. It pained Smith to put he man in a position of wrongdoing, when he was already in a bad enough situation. But Trott was driving when the car crashed. Trott drove through the red light.

"What do you mean?" Smith was pulled back in to reality. Ross' voice was monotonous, almost as robot-like as Smith's was.

"You keep saying- saying sorry."

"Oh shit. Sorry."

"Fucks- fucks sake Ross."

"I can't help it, it just feels right." Ross perched on the edge of the seat. Nervous looking. "I can't keep seeing you like this."

Did Ross feel sorry for him? Was that why he kept apologising?

"I'm not- not weak."

"I know."

"Then why are you- you acting like I am some- somebody different?"

Ross' eyebrows raised up in the centre and he looked sad. Another conversation and he had upset him. "Because- this is different." His eyes met Smith's. They were deep, hiding even more emotion behind them.

"How- how much did you see?" Not once removing his gaze, Smith shuffled his hand to the side as much as he could, grabbing fingers out towards Ross.

"Everything."

Ross didn't take his hand.

Smith stayed silent, waiting for an explanation. There wasn't one.

"What- what mean?"

"I saw you." His eyes shone a little, glistening as tear ducts filled. "And Trott. In the front of the car."

"Oh."

"I thought you were dead, Alex. There was so much blood and glass and pain and I thought you were just a body in a heap against a car window. Then I saw you in resus. So still, so many machines and I didn't understand anything about it. I thought you were dying. You looked like you were dying. And I stayed with you both. Everyday, every night. I made so many fucking decisions that could alter your life for ever. Because you weren't there, but I had to protect your body for you. For when your soul returned."

He grabbed Smiths hand, and kissed it gently.

"And now I can't believe your home."

  
As well as Ross had fared physically, mentally, his injuries were extensive. He had been there for everything, felt the same pain but in a different way. And Smith was in pain, so much pain, and every word was a challenge. But in his heart he felt sorry for Ross, all of a sudden. And he understood a little why the man felt the need to apologise.

"Sorry. Ross."

"Your doing the same fucking thing now, mate." He sounded a little choked. By the sound of it, holding back tears.

"We're- we're even though."

"Yeah."

"You're doing- doing good- Ross. I couldn't do it without you."

And that wasn't just a self esteem boost. Smith truly meant it. When Ross was in the room everything else died down a little. The world became tolerable.

Smith smiled up at Ross.

Ross smiled fondly back at him.

They had no more need for words. For that moment, they could draw all they needed from each other's faces. It was peaceful. Finally, there was just a second where he felt the same feeling of nothingness he had felt before. When he sat with Trott. Peace. It was a well welcomed feeling. He had missed it, almost as much as he had missed their trio being together.

 


	19. Harder to write

Harder to write (19) 

 

“Lewis- was it?” 

 

Lewis sat up, jolting at the unexpected voice. He had been following Ross around for awhile, feeling as if he were a little in the way, so had resigned himself to sitting beside Trott.  His eyes struggled to open again, and although he knew he had been in the hospital for a while, he couldn't pick up the energy to drive himself home. He realised he must have fallen asleep, because light was pouring through the window. 

 

“Yeah. What do you need?” He smiled, as the doctor looked towards him with a pitiful expression. 

 

“Do you know where Ross is?”

 

“No- yeah, I think he's in with Alex?” Lewis shrugged a little. “Is everything okay?” 

 

“I was just coming to take him to the board meeting. There's going to be a discussion over what's done with Chris.” 

 

“Oh? This soon?” 

 

“Standard procedure.” 

 

He took a look towards the clock on the far wall. Half ten. Lewis hadn't looked at the time when he had fallen asleep, but it hasn't been that late at night. Another day with no improvement. 

 

“Actually, Lewis. It might be a good idea if you came with us. You won't be expected to say anything, but it might be useful-” 

 

“Sure.” He stood up, and yawned. “Can I get some tea first?” 

 

“Course. I’ll get Ross.” She smiled softly walking out the room.  

  
  
  


The tea was a little watery, and lukewarm. He drank it anyway, and held the paper cup in his hand as he walked back up to the emergency ward. Ross was there, leaning against the doorframe to Smith's room. Bags under his eyes, expressionless face. 

 

“Morning.” Lewis mumbled. “How you doing?” 

 

“Fine.” He mumbled. The spikes of his hair were shifted to the left, not even a remnant of gel left.

 

“You had anything to eat in a while?” 

 

“Not really.” Ross shrugged, and looked back towards where Lewis presumed Smith was.

 

“There's breakfast being served in the cafeteria. Here-” he pulled a ten pound note from his pocket, “take this.” 

 

“I'm fine.”

 

“It will do you good to clear your mind. Don't pick up anything you can't carry.” 

 

“I'm not really hungry.” 

 

Lewis sighed. “Just eat something, Ross. I’ll stay here. Is Smiffy awake?” 

 

“I think so. I won't be long.” he carefully took the tenner from Lewis’ open palm, and walked at a half jog down the corridor. Lewis took another sip of his tea, and watched as the man awkwardly made his way through the set of double doors. He then placed his tea on the window ledge, and walked into the room. 

 

“Morning.” He hummed to Smith as if it were a normal situation. 

 

“Morning.” Smith muttered back. He appeared to be fiddling with the clip on his finger, whilst he still lay flat on his back. “What you doing?” 

 

“Thought I'd come in and see you. How's things?” 

 

“Fucking fantastic.” He smiled with an emotionless expression on his face. The itself gave Lewis the impression it wasn't the first time he had been asked it. And probably not the first time he had given that answer. Itas a bad question, probably. “You been here- been here long?” 

 

“On and off. Yes.” 

 

“With Ross?” Smith's voice cracked a little as he spoke.

 

“Ross hasn't left once.” 

 

“He okay?” 

 

The truthful answer was no. Probably not. Nobody was okay, and if Lewis had been a meaner man, he would have told Smith the impact this whole thing had had on Ross, and Sips, and Kim and- well, the list went on. But that wasn't what he needed to hear. It wouldn't help him to hear the truth. Not all of it. “He's coping, just about.” 

 

Smith's eyes darted to the side. “You wanna- wanna sit down? Or just stand there look- looking awkward?” 

 

“Sorry. Yep.” He shuffled over and sat down in the overly familiar seat. “You're forming better sentences than before, I hear?” 

 

“Yeah. Still fucking shitty.” 

 

“You'll get there.” Lewis patted his shoulder in a way that was meant to be comforting, but only came across as awkward. What else was he supposed to say? Smith wasn’t going to be happy with any answer he was given. 

 

Smith sniffed a little. He sounded weak, which was almost worse than watching him comatose. Smith wasn't weak. “Where Ross gone?” 

 

“To get some breakfast, I hope. I assume you've not eaten anything in days.” 

 

“Not really hung- hungry.” 

 

That was even more heartbreaking. Lewis never thought he'd hear of a time where Alex Smith wasn't hungry. He was sure that he was being fed- even if it wasn't by mouth, but he had expected the man to be practically begging for food. 

 

“Can I get you anything?” He asked, still unsure as to what he should say. What would a normal conversation be?

 

Smith's eyes narrowed. “Ross.” 

 

“Oh. Right.” That made sense. “He’ll be back in just a sec.” And then be taken away again, Lewis thought, to a discussion on something that needed to be said, but was difficult to think of. 

 

“When?” 

 

“I don't know mate. Sorry. Not long, I promise.” Smith seemed fairly determined to ignore Lewis. Whether it was because speaking was difficult, or because he simply didn't want to talk. It came across as a little ungrateful. Was he not just happy he was alive? He had survived, miraculously, and his friend had not been so lucky. 

 

Maybe it was because he hadn't survived. Not really. Because things weren't back to normal yet. Lewis couldn't fathom the pain, and the feeling of separation was alike that of when he was without Simon for months. A group, fractured. It wasn't right. Except for Simon wasn't dead. Lewis could still speak to him, laugh with him, be with him. Smith was confined away from Trott, an impossible distance for a man who couldn't move. Ross was the only connection- the middle man- the centre of their hive mind. Lewis was not. Smith needed Ross and Trott and nobody else. 

 

Lewis’ attention fell back to the man beside him,watching passively as he fidgeted with the blood pressure monitor again. They both sat in silence. Lewis assumed he didn't want to talk. He watched though. Trying his hardest not to feel sorry for Smith. He looked so sad, so hurt. Not the man he was before. 

 

He was somewhat glad for the knock at the door, and the quiet signal for him to exit. The female doctor again, although she didn't even try to smile this time. 

 

“Alright.” He sighed to himself as he practically slid off the chair. 

 

Smith’s eyebrows raised. “Ross?” he asked innocently. 

 

“He's just coming along with me and Lewis, Alex.” The doctor explained, leaning her head through the door. “A nurse will come and sit with you.” 

 

“But-” 

 

“We’ll be as quick as we can. I promise.” Lewis noted that she spoke to Smith as if he were a child. He probably didn't like that very much. 

 

“Ross?” Smith asked again. Nobody answered him. The slightest elongation of the 's’ was the final thing Lewis heard before the door was shut. He had to shut his eyes for a second, and let what was going to happen happen. He couldn't answer Smith truthfully, because he couldn't give a nice answer. And he couldn't keep lying. It wasn't write.

  
  
  


The meeting room was on the ward opposite, the doctor explained. It was only a short walk, and by the looks of things Ross had managed to get there before him. The taller man was stood by the door, eating a packet of crisps. At least he was eating something, even if it wasn't the traditional breakfast. He probably hadn't even gone all the way to the cafeteria- just bought something from the first vending machines could find. 

 

“Your change- sorry.” Ross started to fumble about, tucking the bag of crisps into his sling and struggling to reach for his back pocket. 

 

Lewis shook his head. “Keep it.” 

 

“No it's no problem I-” he continued to struggle. 

 

“Really. Don't worry about it.” If it saved Ross some time fighting against the bandages he was tied to, it was worth it.

 

“Thank you.” 

 

“We've just got to wait for a couple more people then we're okay to start.” The doctor interrupted, unlocking the door and signalling for them to walk in. “Sit anywhere.” 

 

The room was relatively small, with a table running length ways, a projector that wasn't turned on, and a variety of chairs placed at weird angles. Ross sat down on one in the far corner, so Lewis sat next to him. The seat was plastic, just like a school chair but a little larger. Not comfortable in the slightest. 

 

To the side of Lewis, Ross was looking down at his palms, tapping his foot anxiously. He flinched a little as Lewis patted his back. 

 

“It will be fine. They’re just discussing what's going to happen next.”

 

“Which isn't good.” Ross didn't lift his head. Lewis was getting used to talking to him without eye contact.

 

Lewis sighed. “I'm sure they do this all the time.”

 

“They didn't with Smith.” 

 

He didn't answer. 

 

“Do you want me to let him die?” 

 

It was said with such innocence, such knowledge of the situation yet Lewis knew that Ross was equally in the dark as he was. But the question was genuine. He wanted to know what Lewis thought was right. And how the fuck was Lewis supposed to know. 

 

“I want you to do what's right.” He sighed. “And I don't want you to hesitate from doing what's right for him, because it's better for you.” 

 

“And what if he's not dead?” Ross turned suddenly, tired looking eyes shining a much more piercing blue than Lewis remembered. “What if I say yes, and he's not gone yet.”

 

“They wouldn't have this meeting if he wasn't already-” 

 

“I don’t think he is.”

 

Lewis shut his eyes for a moment to avoid the glare. “Ross, there's no point going against evidence. I think they know what they're doing.” 

 

“But Alex was so sure. I believe him over anyone else.” 

 

“What the fuck are you talking about?” 

 

He turned to look down at the table again. “It doesn't matter.” 

 

“Ross?” 

 

“I think about everything. I’ll think about it all. But he's not gone yet. I just don't have a way to explain why yet.” Ross’s speech slowly melted into mumbles. 

 

“What did Smith say?”

  
  
  


The door opened and a variety of people walked in. The female doctor from before, Smith's doctor, and a few more faces Lewis didn't recognise. The introductions were short and fairly informal- one of the new people was the director of the intensive care unit, the other two were specialists (one in neurology, the other in the sedation Chris was currently under). They sat around the table too, many removing plastic folders from bags or under their arms.

 

“Are we okay to start- I’d like to keep this as quick as possible if that's okay. I'm sure many of the people in this room have patients to get to.” It was a general statement from the director, not aimed towards Lewis or Ross in any way. Lewis got the feeling that they would not be involved too much. That was, however, assuming that Ross remained as quiet as he had been for almost a week. 

 

“So we're here to discuss Mr…” the head of department continued, pausing as she checked the name, “Chris Trott, in room 2. The driver in the crossroad crash. Sustained injuries to the back, head and neck- and has been unconscious since the incident. Can you fill us in on anymore?” She turned to the doctor.

 

“He's had two separate surgeries to realign the spine and secure the fractures. We've also inserted a drain into his head in an attempt to reduce the swelling- with some success but not as much as we would like. And he's on a ventilator too. There's been no visible improvement towards him breathing for himself.” 

 

The neurosurgeon (or, at least the man that Lewis thought he remembered was a neurosurgeon) flicked through his folder and looked down at some scans. “It's a similar story for brain activity. He's almost completely brain dead. Sorry.” He muttered the apology at the end, directed towards Ross, who didn't react.  

 

“So medically speaking, we’re running out of options. A full recovery is improbable. Recovery at all is looking increasingly unlikely.” 

 

Lewis looked to Ross again, who was sat perfectly still, staring at his hands. He wasn't even blinking, breathing slow and shallow. He probably wasn't even looking as everyone else in the room nodded their head in agreement.

 

“And should recovery happen, what would quality of life be like?”

 

“Difficult, yes. That really depends on the severity of the head injury. Which we wouldn't know for certain until he's awake anyway.”

 

“And how’s his friend doing? The gentleman in room 4?”

 

“He's awake. In pain I believe, and apparently a little disoriented. They're close to each other, right Ross?” 

 

Ross cleared his throat. “Um- yeah. Very close.” 

 

“All three of them are” Lewis added. Ross’s relationship with them was just as important. He couldn't be overlooked because he wasn't as badly hurt. 

 

“And there hasn't been many other visitors- which is unusual for someone in a condition such as his?” The statement was obviously directed towards Ross.

 

“It's difficult.”

 

“I'm sure it is.” The head of department placed a sheet of paper in the centre of the table. “I don't to go into this too much, and I'm sure mentioning every detail will not benefit us in any way. So I’ll explain what can happen, Ross.” 

 

“Okay.” He murmured. He knew what was coming. 

 

“This form gives us permission to turn off the life support. And I believe everyone in the room is in agreement that this needs to happen. It needs signing by me, you, and the rest of the doctors round this table.”

 

Ross remained silent. The room itself was filled with the same silence for a moment. 

 

“So. Is everybody in agreement?” 

 

There was a chorus of yes. Slowly, and sadly. Trott's doctor was the second to last to speak, sighing and glaring down at the table as she confirmed. 

 

Then that left Ross.

 

All eyes turned to him.

 

“No.” 

  
  
  


“Ross, sweetheart-” Trott's doctor sighed, but didn't continue to speak. 

 

“I'm not signing it. He's not brain dead.” 

 

“He's not responded at all to a single scan or test.” The neurosurgeon explained. “There's no evidence suggesting any activity.” 

 

“Just shut up with the medical stuff for a moment" he looked up. “I've spoken to Smith- Alex. He's seen him and he's not gone.” 

 

“And Alex told you this?” The doctor somehow looked more concerned than she had before. “When?”

 

“Yesterday evening. He's telling the truth.” 

 

“You need to understand Ross, he's very confused right now. He might 'think’ he's telling the truth, but in reality that's not real.”

 

“How sure are you that he's completely gone?” 

 

The neurosurgeon though for a second. “Quite sure. 99 percent.”

 

“Then you're not sure enough.”

 

“Ross, please-” 

 

Ross pushed his chair backwards, letting it scrape across the floor. “Until you can say there's absolutely no chance of saving him I don't give a shit. I'm not signing the form.”

 

“Please consider more than just saving him. He’s going to be in so much pain, is it fair to put him through all of that?”

 

“Is he in pain now?”

 

“It's unlikely, he's so sedated.” 

 

“Then it doesn't matter.” He stood up. 

 

The head of department held out a hand to calm him down, and gently spoke. “Maybe we could discuss this more. Sit back down.”

 

“No. Fuck this. There's a deeper connection that's not medical and you'll never believe it with your heads so far up your medical asses. There's no need to change anything when nothings getting worse. He's still alive even if this twat-” he gestured towards the neurosurgeon, “is convinced that his brain is gone. And seeing as you'll likely just overrule whatever I say anyway, what's the point of me staying here when I could spend my time with Chris and whatever little time your going to let him have.” 

  
  


Nobody spoke as they let Ross walk out. 

 

“Sorry.” Lewis spoke. “I don't think he meant that stuff.” 

 

“His language isn't the best, no.” The director groaned as she placed her head in her palms. “Maybe I should have spent more time explaining it.” 

 

“What happens now?”

 

“I can't overrule his statement. Either he changes his mind, we have to take it to court, or the situation gets so bad that the hospital board will take over.” she looked to the rest of the staff. “I'm assuming he's not coming back, feel free to go.” 

 

“So things stay as they are?” Lewis kept talking as people began to back their stuff up. Part of him was glad that Ross had said what he had. There had to be some reason behind it. And that reason was probably whatever Smith had said.

 

“Yes. I understand it's not easy for him.”

 

“I don't think Ross will ever sign that paper.” 

 

It was like a call to execution. It was unfair really that that burden had been put on Ross. Because he could easily get it wrong and be left with the guilt for the rest of his life. How hard it must be, to write your name on a line on a piece of paper that explains the terms and conditions of your friends death. 

 

“I've only just met him, but I think you're right. He's a strong one, that boy.” 

 

“I know.” 

 

“Talk to him, if you can. You might just be able to change his mind. Think of the best for Chris as well as the best for Ross’s emotions.” 

 

“I'll try.” It would likely be impossible, Lewis knew that. He could only try. Ross was going to loath it. 

 

“Sorry Lewis. I know this isn't easy on you either.” 

 

“I'll live.” He smiled as he stood up. He would live, and life would go on. Life would be different, yes, but he would cope. Of course he would. 

 

Lewis could cope with whatever happened. But he knew that Ross wouldn't. He knew that Smith wouldn't. Their life would change forever more. Their everything would change forever more. And Ross wasn't going to give up everything they knew that easily.

  
  
  



	20. You know it's not true

You know it's not true (20)

  
  


Smith wanted to scream when he saw the state Ross was in when he ran back into the room. He would have screamed, had his throat not hurt so much. 

 

Ross looked worse than he had done before. Just half an hour earlier, even. And Ross had looked pretty bad earlier. It wasn't as if he was breaking down, or hiding away being quiet. He was uncharacteristically angry. Face a little flushed, pushing the door with a little too much force, sitting down with a grunt. Of course, Ross had been angry before. But not like this. Not so passive aggressive and hidden away, as if it was about something bigger. And Smith knew exactly what it was.

 

“Fucks sake.” He groaned, surprising himself a little with how clearly the sound came out. “They didn't believe it did they?” 

 

“Course they didn't.”

 

“You believe me though? Don't- don't you?” Smith pushed himself backwards a little so he was somewhat closer to sitting up, earning himself a look from Ross. 

 

He hesitated. “I think so.” 

 

“Jesus Christ Ross. Why would I lie?”

Ross shrugged. “I don't know. It just doesn't make any sense.” 

 

“Of course it makes sense. You understood it perfec- perfectly before.” Smith watched as Ross’s face twitched, just the slightest amount. “What? What is it?” 

 

“You're getting angry.” 

 

Smith was getting angry. And Ross saying that didn't help. Why would he bring up something like that after all it had caused? He was angry, and he didn't want to be. And like hell he was going to admit it. “I'm not.”

 

“You will be.” It was almost too quiet to hear. Almost.

 

“What is it?”

 

“I just-” He looked away. “How do you know whether it's true?” 

 

He wanted to know it was true. It felt real. It had all felt so real. Looking as an outsider, it seemed impossible. Even he had doubted it a little at first. But it was so vivid, and he remembered it as if it was real. He remembered it better than the crash. 

 

“I just- just do.” 

 

It wasn't a good explanation. He couldn't give anything else. He knew he couldn't make an explanation that would be convincing without sounding insane. Did he already sound crazy? Did Ross think he was going crazy?

 

Smith narrowed his eyes and looked at his friend. Ross looked sad, of course. Frustrated. Sympathetic. The sympathy was the worst. He wasn't weak. He was just the same. He didn't need sympathy.

“Ross.”

 

“Yes.” 

 

“I'm not crazy.” 

 

“I know.” Ross’ lip twitched a little. Eyes darted to the side for a millisecond. He didn't believe it. He didn't believe what he was saying. Smith gave him a glare. “Sorry.”

 

“Stop apologising.” He hated the sympathy. Ross still wouldn't stop apologising.

 

He frowned. “What do you want me to do?”

 

Make everything go back to normal. He couldn't say that, because he was fighting a losing battle of appearing mentally stable. He didn't have another answer to give. He couldn't ask Ross to be like he usually is, because that were not living normally anymore. He couldn't ask Ross to stop being nice, because in what world would that make any sense?

 

He didn't say anything. 

 

“I can go?” Ross suggested. He hadn't even sat down yet. 

 

Smith didn't want him to go. But he didn't want the conversation to continue. He understood that he was being difficult, and it probably wasn't helping. And by taking some time to think, Ross started to speak again.

 

“I'll leave you for a bit." He still looked upset. He was not right either, Smith had to remember. Maybe he wasn't helping. 

 

He nearly objected to Ross leaving the room. But again, he didn't want to appear as if he was confused. Not now Ross had stopped believing him.

 

And just like that, he was alone again. 

 

He wished that Trott was there. Although, had Ross and Trott swapped positions, there would have been no chance of him understanding. Trott was too logical for that, and thought he was too clever. 

 

He was persistent though. The most likely to hold on. Smith would have given up straight away, and Ross would hate it. Not that Trott didn't hate it. Poor little bastard. Any pain that Alex was in, his had to be worse. Physically and mentally, not that he could feel any of the pain. That had to be painkillers. It didn't mean he was gone, did it?

 

No. It didn't. He couldn't keep doubting himself, it wouldn't get them anywhere. 

 

He wanted Ross back again. Why did he let him leave?

 

And his leg hurt. And his head hurt. He was starting to get hungry too, which was uncomfortable, but better than the nausea and vomiting he had had before. Was he allowed to eat yet? He would ask when somebody came in. Somebody would arrive soon. It had only been a night, and there had been so many people. Doctors, nurses, Ross, Lewis, and so many more. It was still overwhelming. It was all needed, otherwise they wouldn't bother. But Smith wanted it to stop. Ross and Trott. All he needed.

 

Was it going to get boring? Smith had heard being in hospital was boring but so far it was anything but. There was too much going on, but if it got better, would he hate it still? There were wires in his leg (not that he could feel it) and that would keep him bedbound for a while. Not his ideal way to spend a month. 

 

What was happening to him? There was so much going on in his mind. There wasn't anything wrong with him. He couldn't let anything be wrong with him otherwise they'd just let Trott die. But that gave Smith another thing to concentrate on. Now he knew that even Ross thought there was something wrong with him, he would have to work hard not to let it show. And that was difficult, because he wasn't exactly good at stopping himself from getting worked up. 

  
  


The door opened, dragging him out of his thoughts. 

 

He wanted it to be Ross, coming back after only a few minutes. It wasn't. 

 

“Morning Alex. How are you feeling today?” It was one of the nurses, an overly smiley guy who walked over and turned one of the taps on the drip then noted something down on the sheet. They kept doing that. He hoped they weren't taking away any of his painkillers. 

 

“Fine.” He grumbled. He wasn't fine, of course, but he wasn't feeling any worse. Not physically. “Hungry.” 

 

He flicked through the papers. “You're not allowed solid food just yet- but I can get you a milkshake or a yogurt if you like?” 

 

“Please.” 

 

“Alright. And there's a doctor who would like to speak to you for a bit.” He explained as he cleared some space on the table beside the bed. Smith hadn't looked at the table yet, but there wasn't anything interesting on it. Some tissues, a jug of water and a glass that probably had been used by Ross. 

 

“My doctor?” Smith asked as he finished tidying. He had assumed that his doctor wouldn’t still be in the hospital, seeing as he had been working so late last night. 

 

The nurse laughed. “No, it's the head of department actually. She wants to speak to you about your friend.” 

 

Not a conversation he wanted to have. He knew it was going to happen, but he hadn't expected to be so soon. Ross had only just fucked everything up. 

 

Not fucked everything up. Smith knew he shouldn't be mean. But Ross certainly hadn't helped the situation.

 

“Do you want chocolate, banana or strawberry?” 

 

“What?” 

 

“Milkshake.” 

 

“Oh.” Smith smiled to him. “Strawberry. Please.” 

  
  


The milkshake wasn't a nice as he had hoped. He was hungry, and it helped with that, but it wasn't exactly like a five guys. He had to drink it out of of a tiny bottle with a much too long straw just so he could reach it, which didn't help. He couldn't complain. The liquid helped the ache in his throat, and it didn't taste too bad. He was still sipping at it when then new doctor walked in. 

 

“Hi Alex. Mind if I take a seat?.”

 

He spat the straw out of his mouth and pushed it to the side with his cheek. “'Course not.” 

 

“Enjoying that milkshake?” She asked as she also flicked through the sheets of paper. Smith was tempered to ask for a read as well. Everybody else seemed so interested in it.

 

“Yes.” 

 

“It's nice to finally see you awake.” She smiled. “I'm the head of department here, pleasure to meet you.” 

 

“You too.” Smith wished she would just get to the point. Talking to too many people for too long was overwhelming. “What is it?” 

 

“Nothing to worry about.” As she spoke she placed the sheets of information back down. “Just an hour ago I was in a meeting with some of the other staff and your friend Ross.”

 

“I know.” 

 

“Have you spoken to him?” She enquired. 

 

“Briefly.” He didn't wasn't to go into details. 

 

“Anyway, he said to me that you had told him some things. About how you had seen Chris when you were comatose. Is this true?”

 

Smith hesitated. Was there any point in lying? 

 

“Yes.” 

 

She frowned. “Alex. You understand that what you've seen- it isn't reality.” 

 

Yes it was. “Why?” 

 

“It's not medically possible. People often have dreams of a sort when there under anesthesia. They don't often remember those dreams, but that does happen. Nobody sees anyone else.” 

 

“You’re wrong.” 

 

“Alex, I know you're a bit confused.”

 

“I'm not confused.” He had to stop the words from coming out too angrily. “I know- I know I'm right.” 

 

“Tricking yourself isn't going to help the situation. If he's in pain-” 

 

Smith grunted as he cleared his throat. “No, he's not in pain, and he doesn't want to die. I know, because I've spoken to him. You haven't.” 

 

Maybe he sounded a little angry with that one. It wasn't helping his case. 

 

The doctor quickly changed the subject. “I'm going to speak to your doctor when he gets in. He has more of an understanding of what's going on.” 

 

“Why does everyone want to kill him?” 

 

Everyone seemed to have the same mind about the situation. Trott was better off dead. And yes, Trott could be a silly prick, but Smith was the only who could threaten to kill him. Not all these doctors who knew nothing about the depth of the situation. 

 

“We’d just let him go naturally. No pain.” She tried to reassure him. The pain wasn't physical. The pain was leaving him in that world of white forever more. 

 

“Please.”

 

She scowled. “Nothings happening yet anyway. Ross wouldn't let it, and I'm sure he won't unless you tell him what you saw was just a dream. Not reality.” 

 

“But I know it’s true.” He protested. 

 

“I think you know it's not.” 

 

Why did she think she knew what was going on in his mind? It was true. Smith knew he was right. 

 

“Fuck you.” He spat. Quietly, and aggressively. What was the point of arguing with her. The only person that was going to agree with him was Ross, and by the looks of things, Ross hadn't damaged the situation as much as he had feared. Ross was still preventing anything from happening. 

 

Did Ross still believe him?

 

“I'm going to leave you alone for a while.” The doctor gave a sickening smile. Smith didn't like her very much. “You're obviously not ready for a decent conversation yet.” 

 

He'd only been awake for half a day. Of course he wasn't. 

 

She stood up to leave. 

 

“Wait.” 

 

She raised her eyebrows as she turned. “Yes?” 

 

“Can I see him yet?” 

 

“You'll have to speak to your doctor. It will depend on how mobile we can get you.” 

 

So not for a while yet. Smith desperately wanted to see him, desperately wanted to be in the same room with him and Ross. Back together again. 

 

The doctor left without another word. 

 

Fuck. 

 

He wasn't doing very well. At anything. 

 

What could Smith do but wait? 

 

He wondered if it would seem greedy if he asked for another milkshake. 

  
  


There wasn't a chance for him to ask. An hour, maybe an hour and a half passed and nobody came in. It was almost as if he'd been forgotten, which was unlikely, but he hadn't been alone for long since he had woken up. It was an odd feeling. It was good to get quiet- although it was anything but silent. So many noises, so many new sensations. It was taking some getting used to. 

 

The pain also seemed to increase with time. Soon the want for more food was replaced for the want of more medication. If he wasn't so aware of the dangers of heroin addiction from morphine, Smith would probably have been begging for it. He let out a sigh of air when the door eventually opened and he could ask for something, at least. But, for the first time, he was disappointed that is was Ross.

 

He didn't even have the energy to smile at him this time. 

 

Ross didn't smile either. So it didn't matter. 

 

“How are you?”  He murmured, standing awkwardly in silence as Smith couldn't bring himself to answer. “You want me to stop asking that, don't you?” 

 

The quiet was uncomfortable. He didn't have an answer, and it hurt to talk. 

 

“Trott's still the same. If you were wondering.” 

 

Of course he was wondering. Would anyone even tell him if he got worse? Everyone thought Smith had gone mad, especially after he’d had that argument with the head of department. They would likely sacrifice more knowledge for better mental state.

 

“Why are you not talking?”

 

“Tired.” Was all he could get out. It was more than that, of course. However, it was too difficult to even think of the explanation why, nevermind explain it to Ross.

 

Ross looked guilty again. “Should I leave?”

 

“No. Stay.” He muttered. “Please.” 

 

“You should try get some sleep.” 

 

He'd only woken up a few hours ago. No- it had been much longer than that, it had to have been. Maybe some sleep wouldn't be bad. Everything did hurt, it wouldn't be so bad if he could manage to fall asleep. And the room around him was starting to feel a little fuzzy.

 

“Y' alright mate? You look pale again?” Ross was starting to blur as well. Maybe he really needed something to stop the pain.

 

“Drugs gone.” 

 

“You're on a drip Smith. The drugs should be constant.” He looked worried. Or at least Smith assumed he did because his face was swirling. He needed to stop talking. The more he did, the more it hurt.

 

He looked straight at Ross. “No.” 

 

“Should I get someone?” 

 

Smith couldn't answer. He didn't want to vomit again. The spinning made him nauseous. What was it, so sudden as soon as Ross walked in?

 

“Alex? For fucks sake.” 

 

Black splodges formed in his vision. Ross felt more and more distant. 

 

“Alex?” 

 

The marks got larger, more imposing and completely unavoidable. His eyes couldn't control themselves, flicking backwards into his skull.

 

“Al-” 

 

Then Ross disappeared completely, and everything was finally quiet again.

  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Morning boiks. A little update for u lot xx


	21. A bullet for them

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Whaaat is this finally an update? These are so wild istg I'm not the kind of person that can hold up any sort of posting schedule. Anyway. I apologise. Here's a chapter for y'all

A bullet for them (21)

  
  
  


“So you're saying it’s my fault?” 

 

“No. No. Not at all.” The doctor -Trotts doctor- shook her head as she passed Ross the plastic cup of water that was sat on the side of the desk. “It was an increase in blood pressure which caused him to faint. Not you.” 

 

Ross frowned. “Was it because I upset him?”

 

“It was an increase in heart rate. It just so happened that it was when you walked in, but there's no causation there.” 

 

“Is he alright?” 

 

She shrugged. “He’s not come back around yet, if that's what you're wondering. But we've increased some of the painkillers and given him a glucose serum to try keep his blood sugar up.” She placed a hand on Ross’s shoulder, 'If I were you, sweetheart, I’d try and get out a bit. Do something away from the hospital for a while. Cooping yourself up isn't helping.” 

 

“But what if-” 

 

“We've got everything under control. And if anything happens, Lewis gave us your phone number.” 

 

Ross didn't even have his phone on him. It made him wonder where all their stuff had gone. It hadn't been given to him? Everything in their pockets, the filming stuff in the boot of the car. He didn't even want to ask. He didn’t want to see that car ever again.

 

“My phones smashed to bits.” 

 

“There's a Costa within the hospital complex, go there and I'll find you if anything happens? Okay?” 

 

“Alright.” 

 

He didn't really want to go. Maybe he was getting in the way or something, everyone kept telling him to leave. And he didn't particularly want to spend the bit of money he had left from Lewis- because he didn't have any with him, and didn't want to take the risk of being without anything. He didn't want to take any more risks. Lewis was probably gone anyway. Ross couldn't remember whether or not he said goodbye, but it had been a while. Nobody in their right mind would stay with him for that long. 

 

The doctor was busy. She left as Ross sat at the desk, lost in his own thoughts. He couldn't have hurt Smith again. 

  
  
  


Ross didn't go to the coffee shop. There was no point. He wanted to be with his friends. 

 

Trott was still asleep when he walked in. Ross knew that he wasn't exactly going to be sat up and smiling, but he still acknowledged it everytime he walked in. 

 

“Morning mate.” He paused, not quite sure how much time had passed. “Or afternoon.”

 

He took Trott's hand. “They think it was his heart rate or something going up. I don't really understand. He's fine- though.” 

 

He stayed still, chest moving up and down slowly. Just like he was sleeping. He was basically just sleeping, but with a drain in his head, needles in his arm and strap supports round his back. And much less loud. Trott had never been this quiet a sleeper. 

 

Ross told Trott everything. When it first happened, doctors had told him that talking would help. And he talked to Smith, and it helped. Well- it did when he was comatose. When he was awake it seemingly had the opposite effect. Whether it worked or not with Trott was a mystery. Ross wanted him to what him to hear him, but he couldn't know whether or not it worked. What harm could it do anyway? 

 

No, it didn't matter, because even if it wasn't helping Trott, at least it was helping Ross. He couldn't talk to people about anything. Not people who could talk back and tell him what he was saying was wrong. Not people who didn't know him like like Smith and Trott did. Ross had three places he could comfortably go. The two rooms, and the corridor in between. And he could tell Trott was was going on, and he could solidify it in his brain. Tell himself it was going to be okay. Keep himself grounded. 

 

It was all he had. 

 

His eyes turned back to Trott. “I hope your doing fine. Wherever you are.” Of course, physically he was lying in the bed. His soul was somewhere else. Ross prayed it was somewhere safe. 

 

“And you're gonna be pissed when you wake up to find they're ruined your Lego hair.” He laughed. “It's certainly a look mate.” Ross looked down at the tufts of hair that had been hastily snipped to clear the room for the surgery. It was intrusive, and although the stitches were neat and well done, the scarring left behind would likely bother him, and Ross couldn't understand how the drain was doing any good. 

 

“I don't suppose that's your biggest problem.” He sighed. It was the same situation he had had with Smith, there was nothing to talk about that he didn't feel bad talking about. Other than simple observations of course, but he couldn't speak of that forever. 

 

He squeezed his hand. Holding it so tight he could feel his arm hurting- although his non broken arm was bruised from the impact of the seatbelt, so that wasn't too surprising. Ross wanted to keep him close. Stop him from leaving them. Softly he traced the veins of the hand with his index finger, slowly going over the lines of energy that flowed beneath the skin. Following in with his eyes, scanning the very movement.

  
  


“Ross? Sorry.” He hadn't noticed the door opening. One of the nurses stood in the doorway, but didn't enter the room. 

 

“Yeah?”

 

“I don't know if you were told- but you need to wear a mask if you're in here.” 

 

Ross frowned. “Why?”

 

“He’s very weak. And he's becoming more and more susceptible to any sort of infection. And if he was to get infected by anything-”

 

“He would die. I know.” He had been told it enough. 

 

The nurse sighed. “It would be unlikely we could give him anything more to save him. Here.” He passed a face mask to Ross. “Tie one strap above your ears and the other behind your neck. You'll need a new one every time you come in.” 

 

Ross did as he was told, and the nurse left.  Both plastic straps tied in knots behind his head, taking longer than it should have due to the fact he could only use one hand. He could feel his hot breath forced back at his face, filling the fabric covering his nose and mouth. It was uncomfortable, to say the least. But it could be worse. It could always be worse. 

 

“Least we both look stupid now.” He laughed at himself. “Not that you didn't look stupid before mate.” 

 

His voice was muffled through the fabric. It was a good job Smith didn't have to wear one yet- his voice was difficult to understand as it was, and he was struggling to speak at the moment, nevermind through one of these masks. 

 

Was it bad that he thought that? Smith wasn't even speaking at the moment. Not when he was passed out. Although, not laughing would be equally as inappropriate too. It would be uncharacteristic. 

  
  


Time passed too slowly, yet, the more Ross got used to it, the clock started to move too fast. Especially when he was with Trott. Subconsciously, he was wanting the time to last as long as it could before his decision was about the life support was overruled- or worse, somebody said something to convince him to change his mind. When he was just sat there, nothing was happening. So time went faster. 

 

It was mid afternoon before he knew it. 

 

Only the entrance of a figure, a face he was yet to see before and one that was a lot less friendly and caring than one he had seen before, alerted him to the time he had spent just sat there.

  
  
  


“Afternoon Ross.” He spoke, his voice gruff and hard worn. Ross’s eyes flicked up to his torso, then went straight back down to the floor when a police badge entered his vision. “Could me and you have a little chat?” 

 

Ross was tempted to say no. He didn't want to talk about it ever again, especially not to a police man. But then again, he knew he had to. Do it whilst everything was still relatively calm. If you could ever call this calm. 

 

“Sure.” 

 

“Officer Ramsey.” He held out a hand, and Ross shook it. “Follow me then, they've set up a room for us.”  

 

Before he left, Ross squeezed Trott's hand one last time, but didn't say a thing. 

  
  


The room he was directed to was a side room, with a table and two seats either side of it. Ross recognised the box in the centre of the desk as a microphone, likely there to record their conversation. So this was official, whatever it was. Officer Ramsey flicked a switch on the box, and recited “Officer Ramsey questioning Ross Hornby. Time is 16:42. Please-” The officer pointed to one of the chairs. “-take a seat.”

 

The chair scraped against the floor despite Ross’ best efforts, feeling for whoever had to listen to the audio recording later on. 

 

“Okay, Ross, what I need you to do is account to me what happened in the crash, from the very beginning.” .

 

Ross looked at him, unsure of what to say. He didn't want to lie, but did the police need to know every truth. It wasn't going to help Trott get better.

 

The pause in conversation was noticed. The man frowned. “Why don't you start by telling me who was driving?”

 

“Oh. Trott was driving. Sorry. Chris was driving- at first, yeah.” 

 

“At first?” 

 

Ross was expecting him to seem surprised at that, but he acted as if he already knew. Someone must have told him already, and they just needed Ross to confirm the details. 

 

“Alex took over for a while, then they swapped back.” He explained.

 

The officer nodded. “Could you tell me why they swapped positions?”

 

“We were arguing. About stupid stuff. We don't argue a lot. Not like that.”

 

“That's alright. So tell me what you remember happening after they swapped for the second time?” He sniffed, looking directly at Ross.

 

“We made up with each other. Pretty much. Then we got to the crossroads and he didn't see the red light.” He couldn't say his name. He couldn't go into much more detail than he was without reducing himself to tears. Again. 

 

“You remained conscious throughout, correct?” 

 

Ross nodded, and hummed affirmatively. 

 

“What do you remember happening?” 

 

“Do- do we have to talk about this?” 

 

He got no reply. This guy wasn't holding off at all. 

 

“Okay. Well, I didn't feel anything but was aware we were falling. The other car hit the driver's side. Chris’ side.” Ross looked at his feet. He had spent a lot of time looking at his feet. “And everything felt silent- but I don't think it was. Just hanging there. By the seat belt.” 

 

“Could you see Chris and Alex?”

 

“Yeah.” he muttered.

 

“Can you describe to me what you saw?” 

 

“Do I have to?” 

 

“Just tell me what you saw, please, Ross. And louder so the machine will pick it up.” Ross couldn't tell whether the man was getting impatient with him, or just seemed angrier because Ross did not want to speak about it.

 

“I don't want- I can't remember it.” That was a lie, he remembered the very picture of it like it had been engraved on his eyelids. “Sorry. There was a lot happening.” 

 

“Okay. How about we move onto some less upsetting questions?” 

 

“Please.” 

 

The officer smiled softly. “What was your relationship with Chris and Alex?”

 

“We’re friends- and coworkers I guess.” He didn't mind this sort of question, although it did feel like a bit of a waste of time- that could be found out on the internet, and didn't need to use up the precious hours he could have had actually sitting with his friends. 

 

“Anything more?”

 

“Not really? Why is this relevant?” 

 

“You understand it's very unusual for someone to spend nearly a week by a bedside unless it's for their spouse or child. You all live together also, correct?” 

 

“Yes.” Ross was confused. Of course he would be with the all the time, they were basically family. And what else would he do? Go home to an empty house? Sit in an empty office? 

 

“Okay. Good to know, thank you.” He checked the timer on the recording device, then continued to speak. “The car was yours, correct?”

 

“Yeah. The BMW. Total write-off I assume?”

 

“I'm afraid so. Insurance may pay for it, but I’ll be honest with you it's looking unlikely.” 

 

Ross was confused once again. “What do you mean? Why won't they pay for it.”

 

“Neither the driver or the front passenger were wearing seatbelts. And your friend drove through a red light.” He explained. “The other driver in the crash was speeding heavily, which may benefit you. Though, depending on what happens next that other driver could be facing prison time. We can't say yet.”

 

“Fuck.” He couldn't afford to buy a new car. And he didn't want to ruin yet another person's life with this all. But, really, none of it mattered. All he wanted was for Smith and Trott to be back to themselves again. To curl up on the sofa together and spend another night in watching a film and eating takeaway. To run rampage round the office like they had built up a reputation to. 

  
  
  


His train of thought was interrupted by the police man. “If you could try not to swear, that would be appreciated.” 

 

“Oh shit, sorry. Yeah.”

 

He sighed. “I think we’ll end there, for now, unless you have any further questions?” 

 

Ross shook his head. 

 

“Okay, end recording.” He pressed the button on the top of the machine, and started packing it away. “Thanks Ross. Feel free to go now, I might come and have another conversation but it will be nothing big, I promise.” 

 

“Sure.” He muttered unenthusiastically, and dragged his chair sideways before shuffling out the door. 

  
  
  


The hallway wasn't as quiet as he had left it.

 

In Fact, it was worrying loud, with alarms filling the air with sound. 

In such little time, so much seemed to have happened. More worryingly, the room he had just left was pretty much full of people. 

 

And his mind jumped to the worst possible explanation. 

 

He found himself standing there in the hallway, arms by his side, not able to move. Just like the first time. So alone. So useless. 

 

“Ross.” 

 

He didn't turn his head. 

 

“Ross mate?” It was one of the nurses, he assumed. The one who had asked him about the shower a few days ago. “Why don't you come this way and I’ll get you something to drink?”

 

“What's-” 

 

“It's okay, they're dealing with it. You just need to stay out of the way for a little bit.” 

 

“But I don't understand. He was fine just a second ago.” 

 

“Ross, we think that Chris’ kidneys have been put under a little too much pressure from the surgery and the accident and they're not working too well right now.” The nurse put a hand on his shoulder, even though Ross did not move his gaze from the door. “Acute kidney failure, the doctor thinks. It's reversible in circumstances like this. But he's very unwell.” 

 

“Are they fixing it?” 

 

“I think they'll put him on dialysis, if it is kidney failure. But this isn't up to me to explain i’m afraid. As soon as the doctors done she’ll come speak to you. For now, come have a sit down with me?” 

 

Ross ignored the offer. “Does this mean they're gonna turn off the life support?” 

 

“Nothing is for certain yet.”

 

“His organs are starting to fail. And that means he's going to-” he couldn't finish the sentence. His eyes brimmed with liquid once again, and he had to force himself not to cry. 

 

“We can talk about all of this when we’re in the relatives room. Maybe I can sneak you one of the donuts that got brought in too eh?”

 

“I’m sorry.” Ross whispered. He wasn't sure if it was to Trott, or the nurse, or Smith, or himself. “I'm gonna go.” 

 

He didn't look at the nurse as he turned. He didn't look back as he walked out the ward. He didn't stop walking until he was running and he didn't stop running until he was sprinting. It was only when he hit into the door of a cleaners closet- or maybe a linen store- that he slowed down, collapsing his body down against the wall. Slowly letting himself slide to the floor. Then he hid his head in his hands and pulled his knees up to his chest, escaping the world in the only way he knew how. Escaping whatever it was that had decided that the three of them couldn't spend the rest of their lives together. 

  
  
  
  
  
  



	22. A bullet for you

A bullet for you (22)

  
  


Smith shut his eyes again, and frowned. Something was wrong. Ross hasn't been in in hours. Ross hadn't been in since he had woken up. And he knew Ross well enough to know he should be straight back in with him. 

 

There were three things he could think of that could of caused it. The first thing was that Ross wasn't allowed in. This was unlikely. Sure, Smith had thrown up twice since waking up a second time, but that seemed to be a side effect he would have to deal with. And he was still lightheaded. But he felt much worse as soon as he woke up, and the nurses didn't seem to be showing any signs of a quarantine. 

 

The second thing that could have gone wrong was something with Trott. This was, unfortunately, the most probable option. Smith hoped someone would tell him if something else had happened, but he doubted they would anymore after the fainting. Anything could happen and he would be unaware. 

 

The final thing, which became more and more reasonable as time went on, was that something was up with Ross. 

 

Something was up with Ross. He could see that. He wasn't himself, which was to be expected. But, he had seemed to be coping earlier. If he wasn’t- if he were to crack- what would happen? Who was left to do something about it? 

 

Smith opened his eyes again, and looked at the IV line in his arm. His eyes flicked from there, to the clock, to the heart monitor (that could not be turned off, despite his best protests) to the rift in the blanket caused by the cage on his leg. He was desperate to see what it looked like, but with the earlier fainting episode, and the difficulty of lifting his head, he could neither see it himself nor persuade anyone to show it to him. 

 

So he was bored, once again. He wished that he had his phone with him. Or another person. Even that asshole doctor who was going to kill Trott would have been enough company for the sake of a good argument. 

  
  
  


When one of the nurses did come in, the first thing he asked about was Ross. 

 

“Where is he?” Smith hadn't meant to sound so angry, but the urgency of the question showed in his voice. 

 

The nurse looked confused, stopping herself from taking the observations and turning to Smith. “Where’s who?” 

 

“Ross.”

 

“Oh- I've not seen him in a couple of hours. The police have started interviewing so maybe he went home after that?” She shrugged, seeming as if that was the reasonable explanation. 

 

Smith knew that that wasn't true. Ross wouldn't just leave and go home like everything was suddenly normal.

So where was Ross? 

 

He knew he wasn't getting anywhere with his questions, so he changed the subject. “What about Chris?” 

 

She smiled. “Better, now he's been put on the dialysis.”  

  
  


Smith's heart stopped for a second, dropping to the bottom of his chest. “Now he's been- now he's been what?” 

 

“Dialysis. It's a machine that performs the function of his kidneys for him.” 

 

“Yeah- I know what dialysis is.” He snapped. “Why is he on it? What happened?” And more importantly, why hadn't he been told about it? 

 

“Oh.” She stopped in her tracks once again. “I’d assumed you'd been told. The accident and being comatose put a bit too much pressure on his kidneys, and he ended up having a mild seizure. A few hours ago now.” 

 

Smith stared back at her. 

 

“It's nothing more to worry about, I promise. He won't have any more seizures related to that so long as we continue dialysis.” 

 

Smith kept staring. ‘Nothing more to worry about’ was a disheartening saying, especially when kidney failure was such a worrying concept. Compared to everything else that was happening, it was nothing. 

 

“You have to let me see him.” 

 

He needed to see Trott. He needed to fucking slap him out of the coma if that was what it was going to take. 

 

He needed to know what he had done. 

 

Maybe it was something about the look of pain in the man's eyes, or maybe it was the fear that her patient would faint again. Smith couldn't be sure, but something possessed the nurse to slowly nod her head. 

 

“I’ll see what I can do.” 

 

She finished her job, and left the room. 

  
  


And didn't return for a long time. 

  
  


It was about an hour later when someone walked in again. Smith had spent the time time thinking of places where Ross could have disappeared to (not reaching any viable conclusion) and slowly flexing the non-IV arm up and down, keeping himself moving. 

 

The man who walked in was the same doctor as before. He walked with purpose, and sat down on the seat beside Smith without invitation. 

 

“Alex. How you feeling?” 

 

Smith raised an eyebrow, trying to comprehend what the man was about to say. “Better. Less sick anyway.” 

 

“Good to know.” He smiled and leant down into his elbows. “I must apologise for what was said yesterday regarding your friend. I understand it's a lot to grasp, and may have not been the best time to tell you. Or the best delivery.” 

 

“Alright.” He couldn't care less about an apology. He just wanted to know what was going to happen next. Then go and save Trott somehow. 

 

“Anyway. I was talking to one of our nurses about getting you up and moving. But there's some things we need to discuss before we do.”

 

“But it's going to happen, right?” 

 

He sighed. “Eventually, yes. It's more of a question of getting it done quickly. And safely for the both of you.” 

 

“Will I need to walk first or what?” 

 

“No-” the doctor chuckled anxiously. “It will be a while before we expect anything like that of you. If we can manage to get you into a chair and take you across that would be ideal. Otherwise, we’ll take you to see him in the bed. But that's more of a last resort, bringing another bed into his environment would be risky.” 

 

Smith frowned. “You know that i’ll do anything right? If it will help. When can we start?”

 

“That's the thing. We can get a therapist down to help in a couple of hours, which shouldn't be a problem. And providing they say everything is good to go, we can start getting things ready then.” 

 

That seemed easy enough. A couple of hours, and he could see Trott. 

 

“However. The police want to speak to you before you see him.” 

 

“I'm sorry-” Smith didn't understand why that would even be a thing. “What do they think’s going to happen?” 

 

“I've got no clue. Protocol, apparently. I did explain that you weren't likely to be having a conversation but-” 

 

“Fucking idiots.” He mumbled under his breath. 

 

The doctor smirked. “Good to know we're of the same opinion. The second thing, that may also affect how fast you want to take this, is that we can't keep you on this ward.” 

 

“What do you mean?” 

 

“You're no longer comatose, and you don't require the support that intensive care is designed to give people. Even with your circumstances, the NHS can't spare the bed for much longer. If it's any consolation the inpatient ward you’d be moved to is much nicer and quieter than-” 

 

“There's no way to get over that?” Smith interrupted him. “Can I not do what Ross does and just stay by his bed?”

 

He shook his head. “I think both of us know that's not happening. I'm sorry.” 

 

“But we'll be in the same place after he wakes up, right?” 

 

“I think we need to see what happens here first. Let's concentrate on getting you as up and as ready as you can before I start making promises.” 

 

Smith huffed. “Alright.” 

 

It was better than nothing at least. It was progress. He would just need to be a bit quicker about waking Trott up that was all. And the doctor didn't seem to be as much as an asshole as he had been before, which was comforting. Perhaps it meant that there was hope. 

 

“Oh- before you go-” He signaled to the doctor who was gathering up his papers to leave. “ You've not seen Ross anywhere have you?” 

 

“No- has he not been in with you? Or did he leave with that other guy who was here?” 

 

“I don't think so.” If he wasn't concerned before, Smith definately was now. “Is there any way I could make a phone call?”

 

“Course. Is this phone yours?” He was passed mobile from the cupboard at the back of the room. It wasn't his phone, it was Ross’s, evidently left there much earlier. The screen was shattered, but it was just about functional as Smith typed the password he knew well into the keypad. 

 

“Yeah. Thanks.” He smiled, hoping it wasn't too obvious that that was a lie. The doctor left, shuffling out the door and closing it gently. 

  
  


Smith held the phone in the palm of his hand. The cold metal was somewhat calming, but the look of the device itself was anything but. The phone was cracked- no, it was more than cracked. It was completely smashed, tiny pieces of glass flicking off as he ran a fingernail across the screen. If the force of the crash had done this to Ross’s phone, it was no wonder that they had ended up in such a dangerous condition. 

 

It took him a second to flick through the contacts and call somebody. He couldn't call Ross, for obvious reasons, so instead went through the recent calls. Lewis, predominantly, was the only person he seemed to pick up to in the recent days. Lewis had left, and Smith didn't want to wake him again. He kept scrolling down. 

 

Down over his own contact, having last been phoned by Ross the day of the crash. A quick check to make sure he was awake in time. 

 

Then Trott. Trott had phone Ross recently. Smith didn't know why, but it wasn't unusual. Still, he hovered over the name and little picture in the corner of the screen. So tempted to click on it, knowing he wouldn't pick up but hoping all the same.

 

The next person to call was Kim. Smith hadn't seen her in a while, probably a week or so before the crash. He didn't even know whether she knew or not (although really, it was unlikely that the news hadn't spread). But she would help. She always did. 

 

He clicked on the name, and watched as the screen turned green, brightly showing a picture of her and Ross together. 

 

There was a response almost immediately. 

 

“Ross? Is everything alright? I was gonna come in this afternoon-” 

 

“Hey Kimothy.” Smith struggled not to smile.

 

There was a pause.

 

“Smith?” 

 

“Yeah.”

 

“Holy shit.” He could hear her gasping, even through the fidget signal on the telephone. “How are you feeling? Why have you got Ross’s phone?”

 

“I feel like shit to be honest.” He grunted. “But I need some help, please.”

 

“Sure? What do you want?” 

 

“You don't know where Ross is, do you?” He asked, starting to feel defeated every time he repeated the question and received no new information.

 

“In the hospital with you, I’d assume. I did try to get him to leave or whatever before but he wasn't having it. I’d be surprised if he'd gone now.” Kim explained. 

 

“Right.” Where could he be? “He's not here.” 

 

“Are you sure? He’s not with Trott?” 

 

“No, I don't think so. No one's seen him for a few hours.” 

 

“Oh. Okay.” She paused again. “I’ll be right there, you stay put.” 

 

“Where are you expecting me to go?” He laughed halfheartedly. 

 

“Alright, you know what I meant.” Her laugh was equally as sad. “I'll be fifteen minutes.” 

 

Kim hung up first. Smith couldn’t, not wanting to end the conversation prematurely. He placed the wreck of a phone on the pillow, beside his head, then used the controls on the bed to lay himself down flat.

 

He lay on his back, staring at the ever familiar ceiling, once again with only his mind as company. 

 

Where was Ross? It was currently his biggest issue, which was saying something because Trott was a very large problem as well. He looked unhappy before, to say the least. And he was missing in action, as far as anyone was concerned, despite being inseparable from the ward before.

 

He could have done something stupid. He could have gotten himself more hurt than he already was and that worried Smith. He was powerless to help. 

 

Of course Ross would be a worrying sight to any passer by. The last time Smith saw him- just before he passed out- his hair was unkempt, there were obvious tear stains on his face, he looked a mess. If it wasn't for the pot on his arm people would avoid him because he looked like an addict. 

 

Ross cared. That was it, and that had to be part of the reason that he had disappeared. He cared so much, because that's what they all did. Cared about each other. They were not three separate people, they were one of a whole. And the unit that they were had been fractured. 

 

There was a feeling he had with the other two that he didn't feel with anybody else. Something that got his heart beating faster than it should whenever he was with them. Something he hadn't thought about until it was all taken away from him. 

 

Maybe he was falling in love. Maybe he he had already fallen in love. He could only think of them, and he didn't want to think of anything like that when all he really wanted was then both alive and safe. 

 

How he wanted to just see Trott again. Hold his hand in public just to annoy him but mainly to keep him safe. He wanted to spend a night on the sofa, watching a shitty film whilst Ross complained about the continuity of the plot and Trott got distracted playing a stupid game on his phone. 

 

They were his best friends. They were more than that. They were a part of him. 

 

He was going to get out of this bed and into a chair. He was going to find Ross. Save Trott. Superglue his leg back together if he needed to. Then return to normal. It was all he needed. 

 

They needed to be together. And at that moment they couldn't be any further apart. 

  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Have a chapter my friends. And wish me luck as I trek off into the freezing hells of the Peak District on my Duke of Edinburgh.... Urgh :(


End file.
